One
by LadyBattossai
Summary: Lost and without direction, Sesshoumaru is the sole survivor of his kind in a time of glittering lights and monuments of steel and concrete. Here he soon finds a purpose, but from behind a mask.
1. Transcending the Spider

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi and other associated companies.

Chapter 01: Transcending the Spider

Her dim, paper lantern bouncing, Kagome rushed down the twisting path worn between clusters of stalagmites. Hampering her way were the scattered bones of demons and she kicked them hard as she ran. Their ringing clatter as they skipped over stone though didn't steal a single thought from her. All that flooded her mind was dread, drowning her with the devastating fear that she might be too late. Her fingers white from gripping it, the lacquered smoothness of a sheathed sword was tight against her breast. She hoped that she wasn't too late.

Dripping down her neck, sweat beaded, its saltiness itching her skin. Keeping in step, Kagome shrugged, wiping up the droplets with her collar. Heavy and thick, her priestess clothing felt stifling hot despite the cold of the autumn night. Then his piercing yell ripped through the air and an icy chill shot down her spine, leaving a field of goose bumps in its wake. Her run became a sprint.

Opening wide, the tunnel ended with a huge cavern, its vaulted ceiling high above her head. The faceted walls glimmered with a surreal sheen, reflecting the firelight of the dozens of oil lamps set throughout the cave. Sprawling from one end to the other was a spider's web of crystal. At the center, lay partially dissolved demons, their petrified bodies caught in the glasslike strands. She recognized many of them. The three-eyed cow and its rider. The countless wolves and their prince. The tiny flea who had long since turned into glittering dust and had blown away. Her eyes however, avoided one small bundle. With his small arms wrapped around the tiny cat demon, the terror on his frozen face was unforgettable, its image scarring her mind forever without the need to be reminded. No one died peacefully anymore, especially children.

"Kagome-sama!"

The priestess looked up, her racing steps softening as she searched for who called her. Standing still amid the frantic bustle of other familiar faces was Miroku. She ran up to him.

"Is it done?" he asked, exhaustion wrinkling his usually smooth voice.

"I did just as Bokuseno said," she assured, remembering the withered magnolia's final words. "The entire blade has been doused in Goshinboku's sap."

"Good."

"Miroku!" another yelled.

Turning around, the monk looked for his wife, finding her bounding down the crystallized body of an enormous dog demon as if it were meant to be stepping stones. Without compromising her agility, Sango barked orders as she leapt.

"Kohaku, check his binds again! He's weak, but he's still dangerous. We don't want him getting loose."

She jumped off the paw and landed on the back of a big wolf demon with a tinier demon beside it, still gripping its two-headed staff.

"Rin, keep fanning. The fumes will dull his senses and the pain."

With one final leap, the taijiya was beside them and a bit breathless.

"Houshi-sama, please check the seals one last time. This is our last chance. There's no one left to save if we fail now."

"Of course, Sango," he said and then leaned in close and kissed her on the lips. Light and fleeting, it was soon over and he left, walking toward the center of the cavern and the design of paper seals that formed a barrier around it.

Her eyes leaving the monk, Kagome's sight found the drained taijiya standing before her. Dark circles were heavy under Sango's eyes with fine lines creeping out toward her temples. The last year had easily aged her ten. Despite her growing brood and the domesticated lifestyle that came with them, she was still a huntress to the core. She was a warrior and so she fought the futility, too desperate to defeat it to grieve those who had been lost to it.

"You look miserable, Kagome-chan," Sango remarked.

Surprise paled Kagome's expression.

"I wonder if I look just as bad. I think I feel just as bad," the taijiya added, cracking a difficult smile. "If not worse."

The priestess tried to speak, to reassure her or at the very least, to return the smile, but nothing came.

"That bad, is it?" she said with a worn sigh and then gestured to the sword in Kagome's arms. "Is it done?"

"Yes."

Sango nodded. "Take it to him. He's waiting."

Swallowing down, the priestess walked away, venturing toward the center of the web. As she neared, she passed a young woman kneeling on the floor. Huddled over a small kettle, she was furiously fanning the sweet vapor that billowed from it. Fresh tears streaked down her cheeks, following the stained paths of their predecessors.

Ahead, standing in a field of candlelight, she saw the heartening silhouette of firerat robes and an unruly mane of hair. Her steps quickened. She could hear his rough voice as he talked, its raspy edges steeling her nerves. Then her heart slipped a notch as she neared and the light revealed more than just a silhouette. His black hair still shocked her, reminding her that the white was long gone. The smooth crown atop his head only further spoke of the humanity that just remained.

"Inuyasha," she said his name softly.

His back remained to her.

"Inuyasha," she called out louder.

He continued to talk, ignorant of her presence until a deeper voice interrupted him, struggling as it spoke.

Inuyasha spun around, surprised.

"Kagome! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."

The priestess shook her head, blinking back the tears that reddened her eyes. "Don't worry. I was too quiet."

Shame crept over Inuyasha and he reached up to touch his human ears. "I'm sorry."

"Please don't be. It's all right. Tenseiga is ready." Fingers aching as she opened them, she held the sword out for him to take. Stalled by hesitancy and awe, he stared for a long moment at the dark, slender weapon before taking it. Fear tightened in his chest as he felt its weight, imagining it to be twice as heavy than it truly was. If they used this, there was no going back. Any mistakes made could not be undone. It would be the end.

The voice growls behind him again. "Stop wasting time, you deplorable half-breed."

Turning to the side, Inuyasha looked back and revealed its source. Bound to a pillar was Sesshoumaru. The chipped cylinder of stone served to hold him up just as much as it served to secure him and he stared at Inuyasha with gaunt cheeks and hollow eyes. Bare-chested, he wore only his pants and boots, the rest of his clothing and armor strewn beside the twisted pile of crystal that was once his pelt. Feathery veins discolored his porcelain skin, condensing over his heart to create the image of a spider.

"The seals are ready," Miroku spoke up as he approached with Sango and Rin not far behind him.

Slipping down the crystal webbing behind the pillar, Kohaku landed softly near the daiyoukai's bonds. The young man tugged on the ropes decorated with paper streamers and adjusted them until he was pleased with their strength. Then as quickly as he had descended, he climbed back up. The attacks were sudden and unpredictable now and to be near the demon lord when they struck was to invite death. Sidling along web until he was positioned behind Inuyasha, Kohaku jumped down and joined his sister and Rin.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Sesshoumaru growled; sweat drenching his skin and he shivered as he tried to keep his rioting blood in check.

"It might not work," Inuyasha said.

"This is the only way left. It doesn't matter if it works or not. If doing nothing means death then failure cannot be worse."

The comforting feel of Kagome's hand touched his shoulder and Inuyasha turned to find her close beside him. Then her hands slid around him and she pulled him in for a tender hug.

"It'll work," she promised in whisper. "I know it will."

He looked down into her gray eyes, searching for hope.

She nodded. "Go."

Swallowing hard, Inuyasha summoned the unassailable courage that defined him and stepped away from her and toward Sesshoumaru. Sliding it out, he unsheathed the sword and as he did, Rin collapsed to the ground. Sobbing cries wracked her delicate frame and Kohaku picked her back up, steadying her against his chest. Muffling her cries, she buried her face into him, unable to watch any longer.

Leaving the glossy sheen of the sap-slicked blade, Inuyasha's dark brown eyes looked up at Sesshoumaru's. He watched as the fragile control the daiyoukai clung to began to crack and his shivering grew into convulsions. Another attack was coming. His eyes flickered red and the creases knotting his brow deepened as the first wave of pain struck. Tightening hard, his muscles twitched as he strained with the pulsing veins that ran just under the surface of his skin threatening to burst. Malignant, the spider on his chest swelled, its jagged legs growing longer to wrap around him. Then they tightened, crushing his lungs to leave him gasping.

"Do it!" the youkai lord stuttered, and then the excruciating pain ripped into him like countless knives rending him from the inside out. He roared, his howls of agony echoing. Loosening from the walls, shards of crystal fell, ringing as they shattered on the ground.

Inuyasha stood frozen as the screaming continued, hoping that they would subside like before, hoping that there was still time. They didn't and the spider grew.

"Do it!"

"Sesshoumaru, I…"

"Do it now… brother."

Buried behind the pain and the force of his command, Inuyasha heard a plea. The daiyoukai was begging. That no matter what happened, he wanted it to end. He wanted it to end now and he needed him to do it.

Raising the sword, he pointed the trembling tip toward Sesshoumaru. Focused, Inuyasha's eyes stayed on him and he readied himself to take one final step.

"I'm sorry, o-nii-san."

Stepping forward, Inuyasha plunged the sword through Sesshoumaru's chest until he felt the tip driving hard into the stone behind him. Stunned, he let the sword go to find his hands shaking. Impaled cleanly, he looked up to watch as the spider receded in size and he laughed in disbelief. He hadn't turned into crystal. It had worked.

"Sesshoumaru," he blurted out and his relief faded as he watched his half-brother's gold eyes tarnish.

The demon lord coughed, crimson spilling from his mouth while it slowly began to seep from the wound through his heart. Tenseiga had truly cut him. The unexpected irony combined with the numb tickling in his chest drew a strange smile on his lips. Flexed muscles softening, he began to slump, held up now by the sword that pierced him.

"NO!" Inuyasha yelled and grabbed Tenseiga's hilt, yanking hard on it. Embedded deep into the rock, he couldn't budge it and he cursed his human blood.

"Stop," Sesshoumaru whispered, his strength vanishing.

"I have to save you."

"I am saved, you half-breed." The daiyoukai coughed his twisted chuckle and his head dipped, too heavy to hold up anymore.

Inuyasha left the sword to support him. "You can't-"

"Goodbye, Inuyasha."

In a long hiss, Sesshoumaru's last breath left him and he went limp. The pain was gone.


	2. A Connection

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi and other associated companies.

Chapter 02: A Connection

Up the sun-dappled trail, Kagome hiked, her boots akin to lead beside the feathers tickling her insides with excitement. So inebriated by zeal, she hardly noticed her panting breaths or her racing heart pounding in her chest. They were almost there. They, being a loose term as she made a rare stop to yell back down the mountain.

"Mama! Souta! Hurry up! It's only a little farther!"

Far below on the steep, wooded slope, her two companions rested on a fallen tree, their water bottles tipped to their lips. They eyed her with a cool regard as she continued to yell, in no hurry even when she abandoned them to climb further.

"I can't believe how much energy she still has," Souta muttered as his sister disappeared around the bend. "We've been hiking all morning and now it's the afternoon."

Mama smiled and ruffled his hair. "I'm just happy that she has energy, aren't you?"

"I guess."

"Besides, she's used to hiking up mountains. She was doing it for some time not long ago. Remember?"

He nodded.

From beyond the thick wall of trees, they heard Kagome yell again, her persistence spurring them on.

"Come on, Souta. She said it's only a little farther."

He grumbled, but slid off of the tree and tucked his bottle back into his bag. Mama joined him, putting hers away as well and then patted his shoulder as they began their hike yet again.

Ahead, Kagome giggled as she tromped up the leaf-choked trail, the way worn by passing animals rather than by people. It was complete wilderness now, but even without the familiar roads she remembered, the mountains were still the same. A sprawling range, the forested slopes looked like a slumbering tiger and they were climbing its head.

Kagome glanced down at the sheltered field at the beast's side, hunting for the last vestiges of an old fortress hidden there. Black beside the rich greens, she spied the rotted stumps of hewn wood and the regular angles of decayed foundations, their presence a faint echo of the proud band of exterminators that had once thrived there.

Early that morning, she had guided Mama and Souta to it, the place where Sango and Kohaku had grown up. They had explored through the remnants of the different buildings until they had found the courtyard. A blooming meadow now, together they burnt incense to honor the many that had died there.

A pang of guilt struck deep, hitching Kagome's breath. With Miroku by her side, she wondered if Sango was buried there somewhere among the flowers. Then the schoolgirl shook her head, driving the upsetting thought from her mind. She had promised herself that she wouldn't think that way. They were alive and happy in the time that they belonged.

A dark shadow caught her eye through a veil of trees and her regret sank away as she was overwhelmed with excitement. They were at the tiger's eye.

"Mama! Souta!" she shouted, "I found it! We're here!"

Without waiting for them to answer, Kagome disappeared into the dense foliage. Headed toward the shadow, she tromped over beds of pine needles and brushed supple branches of undergrowth out of her way. Out of breath, Mama and Souta finally made it to where she had vanished. After exchanging wary looks, they too entered; following the path she had forged.

Leaves rustling and twigs snapping, Kagome weaved her way through the last of the trees to stumble out into a clearing. Edged with a face of craggy rock, she wandered through it, puzzled. She was at Midoriko's Cave, wasn't she? Hardly eroded at all, the mountainside looked right, but where was the cave? Her eyes pouring over the rock, she was soon joined by her family. In silence, they stood together, each equally perplexed.

"So where's the cave, o-nee-san?" Souta finally asked.

"I don't know," Kagome mumbled. Then her expression brightened and she walked toward the face. "It all looks familiar except for this spot. There's a boulder here that wasn't here when I visited years ago and I think it's exactly where the opening is supposed to be."

Stepping in close, she began to inspect the massive rock. Gliding over its rough surface, her fingers searched until they found something soft and fibrous. Dusting the dirt away, she revealed the weathered remains of a hemp rope. Curious, she gave it a slight tug and the thick cord began to disintegrate in her hands.

"It looks like an old seal," Mama spoke up as she leaned in for a look. "Meant to keep people out…"

"Or to keep something in," Kagome finished.

Mama nodded.

"Looks like something already got in," Souta added. The two women turned to find him kneeling beside the boulder. With a stick in hand, he prodded at a clump of pine needles, brushing them away from a large hole dug between the rock and the mountainside.

Joining him on the ground, Kagome peered into the gap and at the scratch marks that carved it. "It looks like it was done by an animal," she mused aloud. "Caves make popular dens."

The others agreed.

"Well, I hope it's still not in there." Slinging her backpack from her shoulders, she set it down on the ground by the mouth of the hole. A moment later, she was on her hands and knees, shoving her bag through the burrow while she crawled in behind it.

"Is she crazy?" Souta asked, dumbfounded. "Who knows what's in there?"

"Then you can keep an eye out. If any animals come, make sure they don't go in the cave after us," Mama said with a gentle smile and then took off her backpack. "Kagome, wait for me! I'm coming too!"

"All right, Mama!" her daughter answered, her voice muffled by the rock.

Souta stuttered, his eyes flashing from his mother to the encroaching forest that surrounded them. When he looked back, she was gone.

Shrugging off his backpack, he cursed under his breath. "Damn it."

"I heard that," Mama announced cheerfully as she crawled. Reaching the end of the hole, a beam of white found her. She smiled. Kagome had already gotten her flashlight out. Unzipping her bag, she fumbled through the pockets until she felt a metal rod.

"Have you got it?" Kagome asked.

"Yeah," she replied, pulling out her flashlight and clicked it on. Rising to her feet, she dusted off her knees and looked around. A void of black where the lights didn't touch, she was astounded by how dark it was. Then she smiled again at Kagome, admiring her fearlessness. Then behind her, Mama heard scuffing and took a step away so that Souta could get through.

"Do you need any help?" she asked.

"No, I'm all right."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am!"

Kagome giggled. "Souta's fine, Mama. He considers himself man of the house."

"Does he? Your grandpa might have something to say about that."

His flashlight flickered on. "Let's go."

"I don't think you need your flashlight, Souta. You can just go by the glow of your blush."

The girls laughed and Souta grumbled.

The tormenting finished for now; they began to walk down the cave. Refreshing against their skin, the cool air brought relief after trudging through the summer's heat outside. This weekend vacation had been quite a surprise for all of them. With the tending of the shrine for the season's regular influx of guests, they were often too busy for a break, especially when they needed it the most. Mama looked at Kagome, her daughter's flashlight beam flitting all over as she chattered on about the cave's history. She hadn't seen her this energetic in months, not since the way through the Bone-Eater's Well had closed. It had hurt to see her child so depressed and even more so when she realized that she didn't know how to fix it. Then last week she thought that perhaps if Kagome could share and revisit someplace in the past, then she wouldn't feel like she had lost something. It was all still there, just a little faded now. Her daughter's friends had jumped at the chance to help, agreeing to look after both the shrine and Grandpa. As a result, they were now delving into the sacred cave where it had all began, sharing the adventures and creating some of their own.

"Being a little insulted, Midoriko tossed Inuyasha out. I swear, sometimes he was such a… Mama, are you listening?"

"Yes, of course," she replied.

Kagome paused, unsure of its sincerity. Her mom was so difficult to read sometimes. Eventually realizing the futility, she walked on instead, her beam settling on the path and the stalagmites she had to step around. Soon the thrill of finding the cave subsided and an unexpected ill feeling began to weigh on her. As familiar as it was, there was something out of place about the cave. It lacked the soothing presence she remembered, leaving her to wonder if it was still Midoriko's cave. Had she vanished completely with the destruction of the Shikon no Tama? Was she finally at peace?

Sparkling white, something on the ground caught her eye.

"I see something," Kagome called out as she walked over to it. Stooping to a crouch, she set her flashlight down. Then with a finger, she prodded the pile of white dust before scooping up some into her palm. "It glitters."

"Yes, it does," Mama agreed as Kagome poured it back and forth between her hands, the grains dazzling in the light. "What is it?"

"I don't know. I don't remember it being here before, but it reminds me of sand."

"Only brighter."

"Yeah, and it's finer and lighter too."

"Like glass?"

"Crystals," Souta said.

The two women turned to face the boy.

"This is a cave," he added.

Kagome frowned. He had a point. "But, I don't remember any crystals let alone their dust. None of this seems right."

Shining her flashlight down the tunnel, their mother pointed to the scattered drifts ahead. "Either way, there's more of it deeper in."

Dumping the dust back on the ground, Kagome stood up. Then with a sense of trepidation that would slow their steps, they walked on. Glimmering against the stark, black earth, islands of white swelled into branching peninsulas until the last of the ground was swallowed up. The blanketing dust was firm under their feet, sinking only enough to create fine imprints as they passed.

Soon, the tunnel opened up into an enormous cavern. Overcome with awe, the adventurers gasped as they entered. Rippled in waves before them was a shimmering sea of white flooding the cave. Imagined currents of crystal broke against dark monuments of rock and through a crack in the ceiling, the summer sun shone down, reflecting nuances of lavender amid the white. Warmed directly beneath the pristine rays, a stone pillar stood.

Smooth but for a strange shape at its fore, Mama squinted, trying to make out the features on the pillar. Still baffled, she leaned forward to whisper to Kagome. "What's that over there? Is that where the priestess is? Is that Midoriko?"

The schoolgirl shook her head. "It can't be. Midoriko was suspended by the demons she battled. I don't think she's here at all anymore. I can't feel her presence."

"Many years have passed."

"I'm sure she's free now and, because of that I'm happy that she's not here for me to show you."

"Then this can only be something new. Something that happened after you left."

Kagome nodded and then took the first tentative step out into the cavern. Expecting to sink in it as if it were snow or wade through it as if it were water, the deep pool of crystal dust remained solid as she walked across it. Close behind, her mother and brother followed, relying on her experience to keep them all safe.

As Kagome neared, she realized that it was a human that stood transfixed to the pillar. Then a moment later, she knew it was a naked man. No blush of embarrassment came to her cheeks though. Paler than alabaster, it was a statue, a breathless marvel of art that would be wasted in a museum display surrounded by fluorescent lights and plaster walls.

Arriving at the stone platform beneath it, Kagome stepped up, leaving her family below as she went on to investigate. Washed clean of dust, she looked up at the blue sky through the crack, thinking of the rainwater that must pour down on it with every storm. Then her sight drifted back down to the statue and her brow furrowed. Protruding from its chest was a rusted sword. With slumped shoulders and a drooping head that hid its face, the statue seemed to hang from the blade. Cascading around its head were long locks of hair as brilliant as the crystal dust. Lured by them, she reached out to touch the hair and then gasped as her fingers glided through the strands, leaving them to sway languidly in the air.

"He's real!" she blurted out, her voice awash with giddy excitement. She had found someone from the past. She had a connection. Caution fleeing, Kagome moved in closer and clasped his head. Cold, but soft, his skin was smooth and just beneath it; she could feel his flesh and bone. Slowly, she lifted his head up, his hair parting as his face saw light for the first time in hundreds of years. She finally had a connection.

A terrified gasp escaped her and Kagome stumbled back. Losing her balance as her foot slipped off the edge of the platform, she fell and landed hard on the dust. Caught between coughing and groaning, she struggled to sit up as Mama and Souta rushed over to her side.

"Are you all right?" they asked collectively, her mother helping her to sit up.

Kagome nodded fervently, her coughs subsiding, but her face still white with fear.

"So, what's wrong? Do you know who it is?"

"Yeah."

"Who is it?"

"It's… It's Sesshoumaru."

Mama and Souta looked at each other. "Who's that?"


	3. Shortened Vacation

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi and other associated companies.

Chapter 03: Short Vacation

"We have to go," Kagome muttered, not hearing their question. Then without wasting another breath, she clambered to her feet and began to search the crystal dust. Spying the metal rod of her flashlight, she hurried over and picked it up, her trembling hand steadying once she gripped it.

"What's going on, Kagome?" Mama asked, watching her scramble.

"We have to go," she repeated.

"Why? Who is he?"

"We have to go."

Reaching out with a gentle hand, she took her daughter by the arm. "Who is he?"

Her blank look of shock startled Mama, leaving her to feel like she should already know the answer to her question and that she should fear it.

"He's Sesshoumaru."

Mama shook her head, perplexed. "But who is that? I don't know who Sesshoumaru is."

Kagome blinked, jarred back into the moment. Swallowing, she tried to think of an explanation, but instead crafted perhaps one of the biggest understatements of her life. "He's Inuyasha's half-brother."

"Oh," Mama said, her sigh of relief finishing with a smile, "That doesn't sound bad. Inuyasha was a nice boy."

"He's his full-demon half-brother, mama," she explained. "He's not a hanyou and he's definitely not nice. We have to go." Tugging at her hand, Kagome tried to pull her mother away, her attention firmly on the tunnel leading to the surface. Mama though held fast.

"If he's Inuyasha's brother then he's family. We can't leave him like this."

"You don't understand. Sesshoumaru is dangerous and he's probably been sealed here for a reason."

"Wasn't Inuyasha sealed to Goshinboku for a reason too?"

"That was different-"

"Look at him," Mama softly interrupted. "Really look at him."

"But…" Kagome began, her argument dying to a murmur. Prey to a reassuring smile, she finally relented, letting her sight rise to the pinned demon lord. Pale like fine marble, again he reminded her of a statue. Hard lines of sinewy muscle carved his masculine frame with a seamless perfection that would make any sculptor weep. As she stared, she felt an unmistakable force draw her in. Stripped of his armor and clothing and exposed to the elements, a strange sensation of vulnerability struck her, a quality she wouldn't have ever associated with him. He was powerless.

The schoolgirl relaxed and her mother's hand fell away. At the center of his chest was the scar of a spider, its body stabbed through like his. Lured to it, Kagome stepped back onto the platform. Again her hands began to shake, but she didn't take any notice as she reached out to touch him with a hesitant finger. Tracing it lightly, the spider had a rough feel, reminding her of a brand. Then with wills of their own, her hands slipped through his hair to seek his face. Finding his jaw, she cradled it on either side and lifted. Silvery strands fell away, slowly revealing the face that had ushered thousands, humans, demons and otherwise to their deaths.

Then the terror that tightened in her chest melted away into nothingness as she stared at his face, its familiar features weathered by time. His markings, striking and exotic in her memories, had faded from sight, leaving him plain. Sunken and empty, this wasn't the face of a ruthless lord, but of a man broken deep down to his soul.

"We have to get him down," she said, looking back.

Mama nodded.

Taking a small step back, she began to scan his body, searching for an easy means to free him, but it soon became clear that there was only one way. Her eyes settled on the sword mottled with rust.

"The sword's the only thing holding him in place. I think if we pull it out, he'll be free."

Met with agreeing nods, Kagome let Sesshoumaru's head droop back down. Moving to the side, she reached up and grasped the sword's hilt. The ancient threads of silk woven around it turned to powder in her hands, but her grip remained solid. With a deep breath, she summoned every ounce of her strength as she readied herself. Then when her mental countdown reached zero, she pulled. Straining as if she were moving a mountain, Kagome struggled to pull out the anchored sword. Frustrated by the poor angle, curses spilled from her.

"Kagome, do you need some help?" Mama asked, taking a step forward.

"I got it," she ground out and then sputtered a laugh of relief, "I can feel it moving!"

With a bright ring, the sword snapped off at the hilt. Caught by surprise, Kagome stumbled a few steps to the side before regaining her balance. Her chest heaving and her cheeks flush, she looked down, staring at the hilt in her hands in disbelief. Jagged where it broke, she fingered the end of the blade, flaking off crumbs of the brittle steel. "Damn it."

"Kagome?"

"Yeah, mama."

"Rather than pulling it out, maybe if we break off the sword closer to him. Then we can just lift him off of it."

Kagome paused, considering her point. "That might work."

Mama let her backpack drop onto the ground and she stepped up onto the platform to stand beside her daughter.

"Be careful. The edges are still sharp."

The older woman nodded, opening her hands and placing her palms against the flat side of the blade. Kagome did the same and together they began to push. Their efforts were slow and steady as they tried to keep from making the wound bigger. Soon the sword started to bend and then with another sharp ring, it snapped again. Clattering as it struck the platform, the blade bounced away to land in the dust.

Smiles on their lips, the two women looked at each other and then at Sesshoumaru. Leaning in next, Mama peered into his wound before prodding it with her finger.

"I can feel where it broke off," she said, finding something hard just below the flesh.

"It's not that far. We could just slide him off."

They exchanged agreeing looks and then they each took a side, sliding their shoulders under his armpits for support.

"Are you ready?" Mama asked.

"Yeah."

"Lift."

Bracing themselves under him, they began to slide the daiyoukai forward. Heavier than they thought, they grunted in amazement when they finally freed him, the weight of his body buckling their knees. As gently as possible, they let him fall to the ground. Letting him go, the women straightened up and looked at each other, grinning over their achievement.

"You both know that he's lying on his face, right?" Souta spoke up after they congratulated each other. "How's he supposed to breathe?"

Dread flashing over their faces, they knelt down in hurry and turned him over onto his back. Pale and lifeless where he lay, the youkai lord looked no different than he did on the pillar.

"I hope he isn't dead," Mama said as she rubbed his cold cheek with her hand, hoping for some warmth. "Was Inuyasha like this when you unsealed him?"

"No," Kagome replied, shaking her head, "He woke up right away and grouchy too."

Moving in close, the schoolgirl bent over Sesshoumaru until her ear hovered just above his mouth and nose. Her sight fell to his chest and in the deafening silence of the cave, she listened and watched. Time seemed to unravel as she waited with every passing second lasting longer than the last. Then she laughed, letting out her held breath as she saw the faint motion of his chest rise and fall.

"He's breathing!" she announced, but her smile sobered when she noticed tiny bumps of gooseflesh spreading across his skin. "He's cold. We have to warm him up."

Slinging it from his shoulders, Souta set his backpack on the ground. He unzipped it and began to rummage through it until his searching hand felt something soft. Big and plush, he pulled out a blanket.

Mama looked at the deflated backpack and laughed. "I wondered why your bag was so big."

Souta shrugged as he walked towards them. "I thought we were going to have a picnic."

"Wait," Kagome told him and then looked at her mother. "Do you have a coat in you backpack?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Souta, go get the coat, please."

"Why?"

"We need to save the blanket for the stretcher."

"Oh, that's right," Mama said. "He can't walk on his own."

Digging it out fast, Souta brought his sister the wool coat.

"I need both of you to go out and find two long sticks that we can use as poles to carry him," Kagome asked. "They have to be straight, smooth and without any little branches on them. I'll stay back and watch him."

"All right. We'll be back as soon as we can. You'll be fine until then?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

Flicking their flashlights on, Mama and Souta hurried toward the tunnel. Still sitting on her knees, Kagome watched them vanish into the darkness. Alone now, her attention fell to the daiyoukai and she unfolded the heavy coat. Familiar with what it took to care for wounded comrades, she pulled him onto his right side and slipped the sleeve over his arm. Making sure it was tight against his shoulder; she tucked the rest under his back. Then she pushed him away, rolling him onto his other side so that she could slip his left arm into its sleeve.

Finished, Kagome returned him to his back and pursed her lips with dissatisfaction. Barely covering his chest, her mother's coat was a snug fit, but he needed something more. She climbed to her feet and sought her old, yellow backpack. Finding it at the bottom of the largest pocket, she pulled out her jacket and returned to Sesshoumaru's side. Over his hips, she laid it, rolling him like before so that she could tie the sleeves around his waist.

Pleased, Kagome sat back onto her bottom and sighed. She felt better now that he was covered. It didn't seem right for a lord to be exposed like that, for him to be so defenseless. Her sight drifted to his placid expression and a knot of fear tightened in her chest. He wouldn't be this peaceful forever. The demon would wake up eventually, leaving her to wonder what he will do when he does. Will he be dangerous? Will he kill people? Will she have to purify him?

The schoolgirl tucked her knees up to her chest and rested her arms over them. The future weighed on her mind as she imagined the worst and what she might have to do to stop it. Perhaps she should have left him pinned to the pillar, spending an eternity in slumber.

"Kagome!" Mama called out cheerfully, a long pole of wood balanced on her shoulder. "We're back!" Behind her, Souta trudged along, dragging his through the crystal dust.

Looking somber, Kagome stood up to greet them.

"Did something happen? Is he worse?"

"No, he's fine," she assured, smiling meekly. "At least, he's the same as he was."

"Oh. Well, we found some straight branches. Do you think they'll work?"

"I hope so." Kagome stepped down from the platform and picked up the blanket. With a shake, it unfolded and she laid it out on the ground, thankful that Souta brought such a big one. "Lay the poles parallel to each other on the blanket."

Once they set them down how she asked, the schoolgirl moved them almost to the end of the blanket and adjusted the distance between them so that they were just a bit wider than Sesshoumaru's shoulders. With the pole ends sticking out just beyond the edges of the blanket, Kagome was pleased enough to begin. Taking the excess she had left on one side, she laid it across the poles until it barely reached beyond the furthest one and then tucked it under. Careful not to disturb them, she grabbed the rest of the blanket and folded it over in the other direction. Catching on, Mama picked up the furthest corner and helped keep it straight.

"What's next?" she asked.

"Umm," Kagome hummed, casting about until she spied her little brother, "Come here. We're going to need your help." Then she looked back at her mother. "Mama, you're going to have to pick up that end while I pick up this side. When we do, Souta, you'll have to pull the extra blanket under the stretcher so that we can keep wrapping it around."

"All right," Souta agreed.

"Ready, mama?"

"Yes."

Together, the women picked up the stretcher, wary not to dislodge the placement of the poles or the folds. Crouching low, Souta slipped under the stretcher and gathered up the excess fabric. Next, he pulled it across; making sure it was even and tight before he stood up again.

"Good job. Now layer it over the top again and keep going around until there's no more blanket left."

"Got it," he said and laughed. "It's sort of like folding a letter."

"It is," Mama added. "Where did you learn how to make a stretcher? Was it from your friends from the past?"

Kagome shook her head. "I read it in one of the survival books you got me."

The warmth of pride filled Mama and she smiled.

"Sesshoumaru's weight ought to keep it together while we carry him, but we have to be careful not to let it come apart beforehand and to take it slow when he's in it."

Kagome leading the way, they carried it to the platform and set it down beside the daiyoukai, making sure it was aligned with his body.

"I'll take the shoulders," Mama said as she crouched down by his head, "You take the feet."

Her daughter nodded and grabbed him just above the ankles. "Now?"

"Now."

Grunting, they both lifted and then sidestepped. When they were certain that he was centered, they finally set him down onto the stretcher.

"It's our moment of truth," the schoolgirl said, taking her two pole ends into her hands with her mother following suit.

After a deep breath and a ready word, they hoisted him up. Heavy, but sturdy, the stretcher held and the women stepped down from the platform, slowly walking toward the tunnel.

"Souta, please carry our bags, would you?"

"Yes, mama."

Soon they were surrounded by darkness with Souta and his flashlight leading the way. Though it was hard going, neither Mama or Kagome felt the need to complain. After all, heroes never complain about what had to be done. After a while, dim sunlight filtered into the black, guiding them to where they had crawled in. Through the hole, they dragged Sesshoumaru, patiently rewrapping the stretcher once they were out.

Beyond the tattered treetops, the sun retreated to the horizon, dyeing the sky in rich hues as the day faded into night. Having to take frequent breaks to rest and drink, their hike down the mountain was slow and they soon gave up any hope of reaching the hotel before it was too dark. As he had done in the cave, Souta led the way with his flashlight. Behind him, the exhausted women dragged their feet, their eyes bleary, bodies sore and arms numb. Then at long last, the amber glow of streetlamps peeked through the trees.

"We're almost there," Kagome blurted out, stumbling as she tried to walk faster.

"I want a hot shower," Mama murmured next.

"So do I," Souta agreed, "But I'll let you go first when we get back to the room."

"That's why you're my favorite son."

"I'm your only son."

"Wait," Kagome spoke up.

"What?"

"We can't go back to the hotel."

"What? Why?"

"We can't take him there. We have to go home right away."

Reaching the embankment beside the road, the others stopped where they were, shocked and confused.

"What do you mean we can't go back to the room?" Souta whimpered. "You don't make any sense. We can't go back to our house right now. We rode a bus to get here."

"Then we have to rent a car. They're still open."

"Just explain to us why, Kagome," Mama asked.

"Humans and youkai don't get along. There were quite a few times we were chased out of a village just over Inuyasha's ears let alone over Shippou or Kirara."

"But that was the past."

"Exactly and now it's the present and who knows how people might react. It could be worse than dirty looks and a few curse words."

Her mother conceded. "You're right. Souta and I will go check out of the hotel and get the car. We should have just enough. We'll be back soon."

Satisfied with their plan, the women set the stretcher down in the grass. Then with a drooping Souta in tow, Mama crossed the street, heading toward the hotel. Alone again, Kagome sat beside Sesshoumaru. Every so often, she reached over, letting the back of her fingers graze his cheek. He felt warm and she smiled. Once she let her hand glide to his neck where his heartbeat thrummed and then she was sure that he was alive.

Headlights flashed over the road, soon followed by the pebbly sound of tires rolling slowly over asphalt. The car veered close, pulling up onto the shoulder before coming to a stop. Opening their doors, Mama and Souta got out.

"Open up the back doors," she told her son as she walked down the embankment and then she looked at Kagome. "Are we ready?"

"Yeah."

Each taking a side, they picked up the stretcher and hauled it up to the car, the long rest in between making their efforts harder than before. Over the bench seat, they dragged him, bending his legs to make him fit in the cramped sedan.

"Should we save the poles?" Kagome asked as she pulled them out.

"There's nowhere to put them and we have plenty of brooms at home."

Nodding, Kagome tossed them away.

"Souta, go sit up front," Mama ordered and then she addressed Kagome. "You'll have to sit in the back with him. It's a long drive and you'll have to make sure he makes it all right."

"Okay," she replied and climbed in. Leaning over the back of the front seat, Souta watched as she lifted up Sesshoumaru's head and slid her lap underneath. He had so much hair and Kagome gathered up as much as she could to keep from sitting on it.

Finishing her walk around the car to make sure the doors were shut and nothing was forgotten, Mama finally got in. "Souta, sit down and put on your seatbelt please." Once she heard the click of the belt, she shifted the car into gear and they slowly began to accelerate down the road.

Whizzing by, light from the streetlamps filled the car, offering Kagome glimpses of the sleeping face in her lap. With each flash, an unsettling feeling sunk deeper into the pit of her stomach, constituting of a mix of fear and uncertainty over what the next few days would bring.


	4. Guidance from a Cat

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi and other associated companies.

Chapter 04: Guidance from a Cat

Adrift in dark water, Sesshoumaru floated deep in a sea of nothingness. As an anchor to bind him, an unseen chain pierced him through the back and left him to face the black emptiness above. For ages, he hung there tethered until even the memories of sunlight faded into the void. In their place, the deep invaded, blotting out the world with black.

Then without warning, the chain snapped, falling away into the abyss as he slowly began to rise. Limp before their mercy, he let the currents carry him up as the water began to lighten from black to blue. The paling sea was lost on Sesshoumaru; instead he stared at the first glimmers of light with the eyes of a drowned man. Soon the dazzling rays of sunlight penetrated the water, dissolving the murk. Appearing above and marked by shards of white, the surface approached, its reflecting lights promising freedom with edges sharp like knives. His strength gone, he realized that he couldn't stop and so he did what he knew. He surrendered. So through the flickering lights, he rose, listening to the delicate chime of glass striking as he waited to be cut.

Dark gray eyelashes fluttered and amber eyes opened, blinking at a blinding world missing for nearly half a millennia. The daiyoukai's fingertips sought his eyes and he rubbed them soothingly until the glare dulled to reveal shadows and shapes. Above him was a white ceiling, smooth and clean with a strange contraption hanging from its center. It was a peculiar set of glass tubes suspended by bits of metal with a delicate chain dangling beneath it.

Drawing his attention away, a warm breeze brushed against his cheek and he looked to its source, a white plaster wall with an open window set in the middle of it. The parted blinds rattled quietly with the next gentle gust and beyond them, a tinkling ring stirred him with thoughts of white shards and an endless sea. Held by a thin string, a glass, wind chime hung from the eave, swinging lazily as it sang.

A bubbling purr began to rumble and Sesshoumaru looked down at his chest, realizing that the added weight upon him wasn't natural. Although it was slow, his sense of feeling was returning. Forepaws tucked under its body, a plump cat lay upon him, its slit eyes regarding him coolly. Then it gave him a welcoming mew, sounding strangely reminiscent of a cow rather than a cat.

Feeling defeated by nothing more than an overfed, house pet, the daiyoukai decided to sit up. Sore and clumsy, he strained to shift his weight onto his forearms. Sensing his struggle, the cat stepped down from the warm roost, choosing instead to sit on the floor beside him. Muttering its bellowing mew, the animal offered encouragement. Unimpressed by the cheering, Sesshoumaru summoned his strength and began to push himself up until he finally managed to sit up. With his upper body hunched, he stared at the now rumpled futon lying over his legs. Then he felt something bump against the hand he had braced against the floor. Looking down, he discovered the cat rubbing against his forearm, pleased by his efforts. Clearly believing that its support had been pivotal in his success, annoyance brewed in the daiyoukai. After all, it might be right.

Deciding it was best not to think about it, Sesshoumaru began to examine the strange room. Surrounded by plain, white walls and a tatami mat floor, the space was simple and rather empty. It smelled of lead paint and old wood. Then he wrinkled his nose in mild disgust. And it smelled of humans.

Strong and potent, the human odors enveloped him, emanating from sources closer than the walls. Picking up the edge of the quilted futon, he sniffed it lightly. Musty and sweet, it had belonged to an old man. Then his fingers felt for the lapel of the thin, yukata robe that hung from his body. Even though the scent was faded by time, it still bore the faint musk of a young man. The presence of humans was indisputable, but by clothing and caring for him, their intentions only grew more mysterious.

Keen to investigate, he pulled the blanket back, exposing his legs. Although the daiyoukai's body was shaky and sore, he gradually felt more in command of it, shifting each leg until it responded aptly to his will. Ready, he slowly bent both of his legs until his feet were under him. Then he pushed forward off of his hands, pivoting onto the balls of his feet. Between balanced and wobbling, he maintained his crouch and carefully began to stand up.

With legs like rubber, he took his first step next and stumbled toward the wall. Reaching out with his hand, he landed hard against it with a loud thump. Sliding to lean against it with his shoulder, he felt his heart drumming in his heaving chest. There he stood for a long while, waiting for his body to calm down. While he gathered his bearings, his fingers drew his attention next. Dull claws tipped them, their razor points lost to the passage of time. A once instinctive feat, Sesshoumaru concentrated on his youki, attempting to grow back his missing claws, but none of his familiar power surged through his veins. Instead, a foreign sensation spoiled in the pit of his stomach, something that he hadn't felt in a long time. It was fear.

The daiyoukai pushed away from the wall. Heading for the rice-paper, sliding door, his awkward steps began to grow steady as walking became natural again. His hand met the door jam and he slid the door down its track, revealing a hallway. Cramped and short, the hall floor was paneled with wood, its polish worn away. Quietly, he stepped out and began to follow the corridor. Fingertips grazing the wall, he passed several doors. His stealth however was routinely interrupted by the talkative cat following him and its constant need to announce his arrival.

The hallway ended in a flight of stairs and Sesshoumaru peered down at the floor below. Muffled by the walls, he could hear people talking and music playing. Blurting out a rapid chatter, the voices changed every few moments. One attempted to convince him that by using her soap, he could get his whites whiter and his colors brighter. A strange offering considering that he felt his hair was white enough. Another then asked if he'd like to feel fresher, but what a pad had to do with that was baffling.

Hearing so many voices vending and yelling, the daiyoukai lingered with hesitation. Without any youki or strength, he was in no shape to confront what could be hundreds of humans. Instead, he sniffed the air as he tried to determine their numbers and location. It might still be possible for him to sneak out. Then his brow furrowed. Despite all of the talking and bartering, he could only detect the scents of two males in the cacophony. It didn't make any sense. He sniffed again and was met with the same result. Could they hide their scents and thus mask their numbers? What was the point of that if they were going to make such noise regardless?

Soft and slow, he began to make his way down the stairs. With one hand on the rail, his other was tightened into a fist. Dull nails grazed his palm and left him to wonder if he had the strength to defend himself if it came to that. Then his ears perked up. The merchants were silent, their confident shouts replaced by the singing of a young woman lost in love. Bizarre and cheerful, her song was peppered with bizarre gibberish from what might be a language he hadn't ever heard before. Then sounding distinctly closer than any voice he'd heard yet, an old man began to mutter.

"She's a pretty cute girl," Grandpa said with an appreciative tone to his voice, "I like how she shakes her butt."

"Ugh, grandpa," Souta grumbled. "I don't want to hear about what you like again. It makes you sound like some dirty, old man."

"Bah! I don't have much time left, so I ought to enjoy it."

"By looking at girls' butts who are as young as your granddaughter?"

Grandpa scoffed. "It's better than looking at old lady butts. They're all wrinkly and saggy."

"I can't take it anymore. I'm going to get some more tea."

"I want some too. Take the tray and refill the pot."

"Yes, grandpa."

"And bring back some of those red bean sweets while you're at it."

Souta sighed. "All right."

Tray in hand, the boy came around the corner, eyes on the floor and complaining under his breath. Then a strange, tall figure caught his eye and he looked up. With a loud crash the bamboo tea tray struck the floor, scattering ceramic shards of the now shattered teapot across the wood.

"Oh shit."

"What was that?" Grandpa yelled from the other room, "Guess I'm not the only one who has a bad habit. You better get those sweets if you don't want me to tell your mother."

Wide-eyed with shock, Souta gawked at Sesshoumaru who stared silently in return. Neither moved nor spoke, their minds absorbed by what options they had for escape.

"Souta, don't worry about it," the old man yelled again, worried when he didn't hear a reply from his grandson. "I won't tell your mother about your cursing, after all I've said worse out in the storage shed."

Limping as he backed up, the daiyoukai began to move away.

"Sesshoumaru," the boy spoke up, his voice trembling and barely more than a whisper.

Perplexed and made uneasy by his knowledge of his name, the demon kept moving, edging down the hall and away from the boy, the old man, the mysterious vendors and the singing woman.

"Wait, Sesshoumaru," he said louder and took a step forward.

Fierce and vicious, the demon growled.

Souta froze in place, terror coursing through him. "Kagome!!"

His scream for reinforcements wasn't lost on the daiyoukai and he instantly moved away, stumbling down the hallway in a hurry. In no position to fight, he needed to find someplace safe to hide and regain his strength. If they were malicious humans who intended to harm him, he would make them regret it soon enough. Until then, he had to figure out where he was and what to do.

Ahead, bright sunlight diffused through another rice-paper, screen door and a slight smirk played on his lips. Behind him, the boy continued to sound the alarm, but the demon paid him no mind when his shoulder slammed into the door frame. Reaching over, his hand grabbed the handle and he slid the door open. There was little that they could do. He was free now. Then he looked out and for the first time in his life, Sesshoumaru's mouth dropped.

Behind a paltry veil of trees, a city beyond his imagining hummed. From the vantage point of a small hill, he stared down at asphalt streets, the sweet odor of tar pungent in the heat of the summer afternoon. Bustling across the roads, giant, metallic beetles scurried. Trailed by faint puffs of smoke, they hummed and roared as they went, carrying humans under what could only be their half-translucent wings. Above them, multi-colored lights flashed beside huge signs painted with meaningless words and smiling, human faces. Towering amid them, massive buildings rose far overhead, their tallest crests seeming to mingle with the wispy clouds that marbled the pale sky.

Preceded by a deep mew, the daiyoukai felt soft fur rub against his calf. Tearing his sight away from the chaotic city, he looked down to see the cat slip past to hop out onto the porch and then pad down the steps to the ground below. Devoid of surprise or fear, its indifference dissolved Sesshoumaru's complete astonishment and he soon followed.

With a hobbling gait, he walked out onto the courtyard. There, his sight roamed over the trees and buildings as he tried to sort out where he was. An old, iron bell caught his eye and he nodded. He was at a shrine, but that only left him with more questions. It was safe to say that as a youkai lord, he didn't care for them, so to awaken in one was profoundly mystifying. What priest or monk would harbor a demon rather than purify it?

Turning the corner, he soon came across an enormous tree. Full and a vivid green from the spring rains months before, the daiyoukai stared at it, sure that he had seen it somewhere before. Then his eyes brightened and he remembered. Bigger than his memory served, it was the sacred tree, Goshinboku.

Stepping through the gate, he walked up to the trunk and felt its smooth bark with his hand. High up, he spied the deep, elliptical notch left by an arrow, reminding him of the one time he visited it with a purpose, to see his half-brother sealed to it. Brow furrowed in thought, his memory of Inuyasha's sealing stirred up another memory, one of the young woman who seemed to always be at his side. He referred to her as Kagome, did he not? Wasn't that the name the boy was yelling earlier?

"Sesshoumaru?" a woman called out, her voice oddly familiar and out of place.

'Are my memories manifesting in reality?' he wondered silently with eyes closed. 'Has time degraded my mind this far?' He hoped not. He then pivoted on his heel, turning around.

Graced with black, wavy hair and gray eyes, it was a memory that awaited him. "Sesshoumaru, it's me, Kagome."


	5. The Meaning of Knife

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi and other associated companies.

Chapter 05: The Meaning of Knife

Sesshoumaru took a step back, edging away from Kagome.

"Wait!" she called to him, taking two steps for his one. "Please don't go."

He paused. Retreat wasn't honestly his fashion, even when done with dignity.

Kagome swallowed, pushing down the anxiety that crept in her throat. As Inuyasha's enigmatic older brother, she didn't know much about him, except that he wasn't above violence when things weren't in his favor or even when they were for that matter. Her nervousness spiked. She didn't want to fight him. She just saved him.

Sesshoumaru glanced at the nearby fence, sizing up its height. His brief look however didn't go unnoticed and Kagome swiftly found her voice.

"A lot has changed since the Feudal Era," she warned. "The company of an ally might be nicer than a city of strangers, don't you think? If you stay, I promise to explain everything that I can."

He snorted, masking the sway of her reason. "Where am I?"

"Tokyo."

"Tokyo? What's Tokyo?"

"I'm sorry. This region used to be Edo, but it's now known as Tokyo."

Sesshoumaru nodded. The presence of the sacred tree proved her to be honest. Perhaps it was due to the brevity of their lives, but humans were so fickle when it came to names, changing them on a whim. "How long was I sealed?"

"I don't know. Ever since I wished the Shikon no Tama into nothingness, I haven't been able to go back through the well. My family and I just found you a few days ago in Midoriko's cave."

"Strange."

Kagome waited, hoping for an explanation. The silence however wore on, and her patience thinned. "What do you mean by strange?"

"Show me the well."

Still confused and somewhat annoyed that her question had gone unanswered, she waved her hand, and began to walk away. "It's over here. Come with me."

Keeping a slow pace, she led him across the grounds and toward a small wooden shed. Immersed in a sense of emptiness as she climbed up the familiar steps, she reached for the weathered door and slid it open. Sunlight poured in, revealing a square well in the shadows.

"It looks familiar."

"It's the Bone-Eater Well. It's how I traveled from my time to yours.

"How?"

"I just jumped down it. By accident the first time, but I traveled through it continuously for about a year, living my two lives."

"Then you are simply human."

Kagome blushed; embarrassed by his insinuation that she might be something supernatural. She hadn't realized how she might seem to someone who had known her first in the past, and now in the present as well. "I'm Kikyo's reincarnation. Since the jewel was burned with her body, I was born with it inside of me. I think because of that, I was allowed to travel to your time, and then back again at will."

"Then when Naraku was defeated, you were returned here."

She nodded.

"Strange."

"Why do you keep saying that?"

Keeping silent, he turned around and left the shed.

The first sparks of anger smoldered in her chest and she chased after him. "I've been truthful with you. You should be honorable and do the same with me. What's strange?"

"This has nothing to do with honor, but with respect."

"Then be respectful and answer me."

"I will not," he refused, stopping his trek across the courtyard to confront her. "As a lord, I am entitled to respect, a courtesy that is undeserving of a nameless human who has yet to earn it. Learn your place or your lesson will be harsher."

Her fury ignited. "I'm not nameless! I am Higurashi Kagome!"

"That is not what I was referring to."

"If that's not it, then you mean your lordship. That by being a daiyoukai, you believe that you're better than everyone else? Well, I've got news for you. It might only be a few months for me, but it's been three hundred years since Naraku's defeat and nothing is the same. There are no youkai here. Not one. Humans rule everything. We do what we wish now, and for once, you need to respect us." Her voice lowered, and she let her last words cut. "You're a lord without people. A lord of nothing."

Breathing hard, Kagome glared victoriously at him. Then her triumph began to tarnish and her eyes softened. Shock paled his face. Three hundred years pass, and everything he had was a memory. She had gone too far. Worrying so much about his wakening and what he might do had put her on edge all week. She had expected a fight, and when there wasn't one, she started one.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I don't know for certain. There could be some youkai out there that I haven't been able to sense."

"No, you are correct," Sesshoumaru said, "I am the last one. I am a lord without people. A lord of nothing."

"No, that's not true…" she began to disagree, but he turned away from her, limping toward the house. Soon he disappeared inside, leaving her alone.

Frustrated and angry at her bullheadedness, Kagome began to pace and mutter, recounting events and how she could have gone about it without ripping an injured man a new wound. She would stitch it up when she saw him next; at least she hoped she could. Looking up, she spied her mother walking toward her, a frilled apron tied around her waist.

"Mama, I screwed up," she admitted, her voice miserable. "He's not awake for fifteen minutes, and I've already ruined things."

Leaning close, her mother hugged her around her shoulders. "Don't be too hard on yourself. A lot has happened to you over the last year and a half. More has been expected of you than should be demanded from anyone, let alone a teenage girl."

"I just wish I had handled it better. Sometimes I forget about the different customs." Kagome looked up, catching her mother's dark eyes. "I think I hurt his feelings."

"He'll understand," she soothed. "He may be a demon, but he's still a man and like most, he just needs time to think. You can make amends with him later."

"All right."

Mama smiled. With her arm still around her daughter's shoulders, she pulled her toward the house. "Besides, I'm fixing steak in honor of our new guest's recovery. Dogs like steak, don't they?"

Kagome giggled. "I hope so."

"I wonder if he'll be like Inuyasha and love ramen too."

She shook her head and laughed. "Somehow, I think his tastes are probably too refined for ramen."

Mama frowned. "That's too bad. Inuyasha was such a cheap boy to feed."

Soon they reached the steps and passed through the door leading into the kitchen. A rush of savory aromas met them, and Kagome's stomach gurgled with anticipation. On the stovetop, saucepans bubbled, and Mama surrendered her daughter to make sure that none of them had burned. Fresh vegetables were spread out on the counter, each washed, trimmed, and ready to be chopped. Satisfied that all was cooking well, Mama left the stove for the refrigerator and retrieved a paper-wrapped package of meat.

"Can I help?" Kagome asked.

"Of course," he mother replied, and gestured to the counter. "Could you finish dicing the daikon while I trim the steaks, please?"

"No problem!" Walking to the sink, she washed her hands and then searched for her apron in the drawer. Finding it, she tied it on and rolled up her sleeves. Picking up the half cut-up radish, she repositioned it on the cutting board and looked for the knife. Not finding it beside the cutting board, she began to look around the counter and under the other vegetables. "Mama, where's the knife?"

"The chopping knife?"

"Yeah."

"It should be there."

"I can't find it."

"I set it down on the cutting board before I went outside."

"It's not here. The daikon was the only thing on the cutting board. I've checked all over the counter and I looked in the sink. It's gone."

"I wonder where it went." Mama walked toward the hall and yelled into the family room. "Souta, did you move my chopping knife?!"

"No!" came a distant reply.

Her mother hummed. "If he didn't take it, who could have? It's strange."

"Strange," Kagome murmured, and then she blanched with fear. "Sesshoumaru."

Bolting out of the kitchen, she ran down the hall. Focusing her powers, she searched for his presence. He was upstairs. Not sparing a moment to slow down, she made for the stairs. Reaching them, she flew up, taking each step two at a time, and nearly stumbling at the top. She was such a stupid girl. How could she tell him that he was a lord without people? That he was a lord of nothing? His title was all that he had left. She was so stupid, and so was bushido. Stupid warrior culture and their death before honor rules.

Her thundering steps softened as Kagome began to sneak close. Moving from the side, she could see into his room, its sliding door open a crack. Through the gap, she peeked at the tatami floor, and then her hand rose to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Spilled across the floor was silver hair, its strands glinting beautifully in the light.

"Oh no."

Behind her, she felt Mama and Souta walk up. Looking back at them, she realized what she has to do. Even though she doesn't want to look, she can't subject anyone else to her mistake.

"Wait here," she said, and she reached for the handle. Closing her eyes, she pulled the door down its track, and then slowly opened it. She gasped. Bathing in the sunlight at the center of the empty room was Sesshoumaru. The knife still in his hand, he was surrounded by swirls of his shorn hair. With his longest locks reaching his neck, the rest of his hair was ragged and uneven where he had cut it.

"Sesshoumaru?" she whispered.

Ignoring her, he continued to look out of the window.

"Sesshoumaru?" she said louder.

Silence.

Taking a step into the room, she called out again. "Sesshoumaru? Are you all right?"

"I am now."

Unable to stifle her shock, Kagome blurted out the obvious. "Because you cut off your hair?"

"I am not a lord any longer," he admitted. "I am a being without a time or a place. I have no purpose. I do not deserve the hair of a lord, of a warrior. My honor will not permit it." Pushing off of his knees, he rose to his feet. Turning around, he began to walk toward her. She began to back up until she felt Souta behind her. Twirling the knife as he neared, he caught it by the back of the blade, and then handed it to Mama. "My apologies, Higurashi-san. I took it without your permission."

Mama smiled. "There's no need." She gestured to his hair. "Would you like me to even that out for you?"

Mulling over her offer for a moment, he then nodded. "It would be appreciated."

"My scissors are downstairs."

"I will accompany you."

Brushing past Kagome, he left with Mama. Lingering behind, she and Souta stared at the pools of hair, still mystified. Then Souta spoke up.

"Damn, he's hardcore."

Kagome nodded.

"At least he didn't kill himself."

Kagome nodded again.

A/N: Sorry for the brevity, and the tardy update. My original work has been demanding a lot lately.


	6. The Soul of a Man

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi and other associated companies.

Chapter 06: The Soul of a Man

Far below their twisting boughs, Sesshoumaru stood alone beneath the many trees that peppered the shrine. The midmorning sun filtered down through their branches, dappling him and the ground with light. The trees began to rustle, and as familiar that day as it was hundreds of years ago, the summer breeze began to blow. It ruffled his hair, and caressed the back of his neck. It sent yellowing leaves dancing to the ground.

Taking his broom, the daiyoukai began to sweep them up again. The smooth cracked wood felt good in his hands as he gathered them together in a pile. It was an ancient broom. Cobwebbed and dusty, he had dragged it out of the back of the storage shed, letting it feel the brush of the ground after years of uselessness.

Sidestepping in a slow constant rhythm, he swept up more leaves, remembering the hours he'd spent doing it in his youth around the dojo of his master. The memories though felt vague, trapped in a fog of time. It'd been so long since he last remembered them.

Footsteps interrupted his rhythm. A slow shuffling gait, they dragged on the right side. He snorted. The old man's hip always seemed to be sore in the morning. It was accompanied by another noise, the quiet rustle of a broom being dragged.

"Good morning, Sesshoumaru," Grandpa said, his voice equal parts warmth and rasp.

Glancing over his shoulder, the demon nodded his bow, and began to sweep again.

The old man chuckled. "That was the most modest bow I've received in years, but then you are the older one, aren't you? Even if you don't look it."

Sesshoumaru looked over his shoulder again, and let his eyes linger.

"You're lucky and unlucky," he went on, "Old age takes its time to find you. I'm afraid it snuck up on me. I've been tending the shrine for so long now." With a soft swish, he began to sweep beside the youkai. "The years go by so fast, and I'm only sixty-five. I can't imagine how a year might feel to someone who's lived for hundreds of them."

"The summer is a smile," he replied after a moment, "the fall is a gasp, the winter is a shudder, and the spring is a sigh."

Grandpa let his broom pause as he thought, and then he chuckled again. "Sounds like a good woman."

Faint even in the sunlight, Sesshoumaru smirked.

"Ha! There it is! Just like the summer, you have a smile."

His smirk vanished. "You are simple to please." Again, he began to sweep, but with quick purposeful strokes as he slowly edged away from the old man.

"The little triumphs are the best ones."

The daiyoukai shrugged.

"I'm surprised though to see you out here. The chores often fall to me. My grandchildren are too busy with their own lives. How can they care for relics from a past that has no place in their future?" He sighed. "Between the internet and cell phones, I feel like a relic for even caring about a few old scrolls and chipped pottery."

Sesshoumaru stared at him blankly. "What is the internet?"

"I'm sorry. Hmm… well, I don't rightly know, but it seems like it's a huge waste of time."

He nodded, and then smirked. "If you believe yourself a relic for that, then I must be one as well."

Grandpa laughed. "A welcomed relic who helps out. I'm still shocked."

"It's familiar work, and it reminds me of when I was young and learning swordplay for the first time. My master required me to clean the dojo every morning. Compared to a forested mountain, this shrine is an indulgence."

"A whole mountain?"

"My master was not an admirer of fallen pine needles."

"Wow."

The demon shrugged. "It was my path to discipline, and to do it honored the art that would make me a warrior. It was not a hardship, but a privilege."

"Well, this place isn't a dojo, but I appreciate the honor."

"I have come to realize that it truly is a holy place, and that I still hold a thread of the power I once wielded. You must forgive me. It was an accident."

"What was?"

His broom stopped, and he pointed to the massive iron shrine bell near the entrance. Dark and jagged, a large crack ran its length.

The old man's mouth dropped open.

"I was attempting to clean it, but it would appear that my mere presence was too much for it."

"That was two hundred years old!"

"Hn," he snorted, unimpressed by its age. "There were several seals that caught fire earlier as well. I stamped them out."

"Where?"

"In the storage shed where I discovered this broom."

Grandpa dropped his broom to cradle his forehead in his hands. "My heirlooms."

The daiyoukai shrugged, and continued to sweep.

"That's it!" he exclaimed, "I have an idea! Have you ever heard of Miyamoto Musashi?"

"No."

"I suppose you wouldn't have since he was a little bit ahead of your time."

"Who was he?"

"A great human warrior."

"Human?"

"Yes. He never lost a match, and is considered one of the best swordsmen in history."

Intrigued, Sesshoumaru let his broom stop.

"Come on," Grandpa waved to him, "and leave that broom there. I've got something to show you."

Letting the broom fall, Sesshoumaru joined the old man, and they walked slowly across the grounds.

"Aside from being a fine swordsman, Musashi was a reasonably well-educated man. His success inspired him to write about his way of the sword so that others would understand what it meant to be a true warrior."

Hidden away in a far corner of the shrine, they soon approached a small shed tucked beside a tree with low hanging branches.

"Perhaps one of his most memorable analogies was his comparison between a warrior and a carpenter. You see, in order to build a house, a carpenter must be meticulous, and capable of putting together a master plan without any errors.

"A carpenter must understand the nature of the wood, and its best uses. He must deduce what every piece's purpose is, and how to work it, mold it, and sand it. From that, he then must know how to construct the frame, floor, doors and walls of his house. He must know in what order to place them, and how to tease out the best features from even flawed materials.

"A warrior must do the same. He must understand the nature of his opponent, and how he can be defeated. He must deduce what his opponent's strengths and weaknesses are, and how to manipulate them. From that, he then must know how to create a defense, and an attack. He must know in what order to feint, and to stab, and how to tease out the best route to victory when facing even the strongest rivals."

Seemingly still interested, Sesshoumaru nodded.

"There is more than just the ability to plan. A carpenter must be skilled in a variety of tools in order to succeed. No tool is insignificant, because everything has a use. As a warrior, you must have realized long ago that every weapon has its place. That you should know how they're meant to be handled, because you never know when you may have to rely on them."

An old-fashioned lock, a long board hung across the shed's doors, keeping it shut. Grandpa tried to lift it from its hooks, but it was hopelessly wedged in. It'd been years since he'd last opened it, and after a few more struggling tries, he looked back at the daiyoukai.

The demon stared back at him.

"Could you?"

"Ah," Sesshoumaru murmured, and he stepped forward. With a supernatural ease, he lifted the board out of place with one hand, and set it down against the shed.

"Thank you," the old man replied. He then reached for the handles, and the hinges whined as he opened the doors.

Swirling in the sunlight, dust motes glittered in the small workshop. Tables lined the room, each covered with a tarp. Grandpa walked over to one, and pulled back the cloth, sending up new clouds of dust. Set in rows, a myriad of carpentry tools were laid out. Chisels, saws, hammers and levels; each one was immaculate, and in its proper place.

"It's an old hobby from my youth," he reminisced, letting his finger longingly trace a few tools. "Nearly every piece of furniture in the house originated here." Then he pulled his finger back. "But when Kagome was born, my daughter needed me, and old hobbies were put to the side. I had hoped that Souta would show an interest, but he didn't."

A long silence passed as each dwelled on a past that had become just that, the past.

"You're a broken man, Sesshoumaru."

His brow furrowed, the youkai stared at him, but didn't refute what he had said.

"Only a broken man seeks out his youth, searching for the beginning so that he may build once more. Perhaps you think that if you sweep up enough leaves that you'll find yourself again, but it won't work. You're not who you were then." Grandpa picked up a hammer, and gave it to him. Sesshoumaru looked at it. The solid steel alloy felt heavy in his hand. "You need to find a new purpose. A new way of the warrior. And the sliding door in the kitchen is warped, so it doesn't slide like it used to. The stairs creak, and the wood floor upstairs is awful, and needs to be replaced. I know that you're an honorable man, so consider this training your compensation for room and board."

Finished, Grandpa patted him on the shoulder, and walked away, grumbling under his breath about his hip as he stepped out. Some tea sounded nice, and sweeping the leaves could wait a little longer.

Alone, Sesshoumaru set the hammer down, and began to walk over to each table, pulling off their tarps. After folding them neatly, he set them down in a pile by the doorway. On top of one of the tables, he noticed a small bookcase lined with yellowing tomes. White creases traced their spines, and he plucked one up.

'Bikini Girl's Basic Guide to Carpentry,' he read. "Strange." He thumbed through the pages, remembering again what it was like to read.

Through the gap on the shelf, he spotted another book. 'Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi.' He took that one too.

OOOOOOOOOO

"I'm home!" Kagome announced with bubbling vibrancy. With two deft shakes, she was shoeless, abandoning them by the door as she walked across the cool floor.

"Welcome home," came Souta's tepid reply from the family room.

"School was tough today," she went on, "I think I did pretty good on my math exam even though the teacher went over the material way too fast." Kagome continued to ramble on as she set her backpack down to hang up her school coat in the closet. A long time ago, she realized that she didn't really care if anyone listened. She knelt down next, and unzipped her bag. Inside were several textbooks, and she pulled them out. With them cradled against her chest, she carried them with her as she walked down the hall toward the family room. "I went to the library too, and found some good history books for Sesshoumaru so he can catch up with the world.

She stepped into the family room.

"Do you know where he…"

Feeling a pillow of sawdust under her foot, her question dried up, and then her mouth dropped. From wall to wall, the room was a disaster. Long wood dowels along with massive torn sheets of rice paper were strewn about the floor, and over the furniture. And at the center, the table was overwhelmed with a variety of tools and one sticky bottle of glue.

"What the hell happened here?" Kagome blurted out.

Hidden somewhere amid the chaos, an indifferent Souta replied as he channel-surfed on a still barely visible television. "Sesshoumaru's fixing the screen door."

"He's what?"

The boy sighed. "Grandpa showed him the tool shed, and now he's fixing the door."

"Is he?" She looked at the disarray, mystified.

A pile of rice paper shrugged. "He's determined."

His clothes and skin stained with paint and wood glue, Sesshoumaru entered, carrying the skeletal frame of a new door.

"Is the frame dry?" Souta asked, leaving his sister wondering how he even knew the daiyoukai was there.

"The clamps were left on the joints for four hours as Bikini Girl instructed, and as I have learned, her instructions are not to be trifled with. I will be sliding it down the track to make sure it fits. Would you take the roll of rice paper out to the shed? I will be applying it out there once I am finished."

"Sure!" Souta clambered out of the mess enshrouding him, and walked over to the big roll set beside the wall. With a labored grunt, he hefted it up, teetering a bit as he took his first step.

"Isn't that too heavy?" Kagome asked.

"Nope!" he answered as he walked down the hallway, and out the door.

The schoolgirl shook her head. He won't put away the dishes, but he'll carry something that's as big as he is out to the shed for Sesshoumaru.

Stepping around the debris, she headed for the kitchen. In the entryway, she found the daiyoukai kneeling down as he aligned the frame with the track. On the other side, she spotted Mama and Grandpa leaning against the counter with two cups of tea between them. Taking the greatest care, Kagome gingerly sidled around the demon, and joined them.

"Good afternoon, Kagome," her mother and grandfather welcomed her.

"Good afternoon," she answered.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Mama offered. "There's still plenty in the pot."

"Maybe a little later. What's going on?"

"He's fixing the door."

"Why?"

"You're a woman," Grandpa said dryly. "You wouldn't understand the soul of a man."

"Whatever," she scoffed.

Mama smiled. "I've been meaning to ask, but exactly how much will this soul of a man cost? The labor may be free, but the materials definitely aren't."

"Don't worry about it," the old man replied. "The shrine's going to be short a few heirlooms in the future, but not any anyone would miss. Besides, I think we'd be missing a lot more if I didn't find something for our houseguest to do."


	7. The Wayward Receipt

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi and other associated companies.

Chapter 07: The Wayward Receipt

Clacking smoothly beneath his feet, Sesshoumaru could feel the steel centipede race along its fixed track. Trapped in the husk of its segmented body, he held onto the bar overhead with one hand, letting the beast take him where it pleased, and hoping that they somehow agreed. Souta had called it an elevated train. He looked down at the boy sitting in the plastic seat beside him. A locomotion of man.

It reeked of them at the very least. Sweat mostly, but there were a host of other odors as well, and none of them were flattering. Still, it was the nature of the summer, even when they hovered upon the cusp of fall.

"Isn't that heavy?" a young woman asked from the seat across from them. She gestured to the stack of lumber he held on his shoulder. Pungent as she spoke, he could smell her sickly sweet breath. It reminded him of mint. 'Strange.'

"He's fine," Souta snapped.

Taken aback by the sharpness of his reply, she looked up at the daiyoukai, and then back at the boy. They both stared at her in silence.

"Oh." Confused and unexpectedly embarrassed, she pulled a magazine from her purse, and turned away.

Looking around the train, Souta caught several surreptitious glances their way. A few passengers whispered, and he growled when one pointed a finger. Crossing his arms against his chest, he leaned back and sighed.

"People are stupid. Don't they realize that they're staring at us and how rude that is? It's so annoying."

"It has always been this way," Sesshoumaru replied. "In three hundred years, nothing has changed."

The boy nodded.

"The only improvement is that they do not do anything that requires me to kill them now. I cannot melt them with poison, but I can toss them off of the centipede for their transgressions."

In shock, Souta looked up at him.

The demon looked back; his expression was both blank and honest.

"You can't kill anyone."

"Why?"

"You just can't. It's wrong."

Sesshoumaru shrugged. "I find that to be a remarkably insufficient reason. Humans are more prevalent now than ever. A little population control might be a benefit."

His mouth dropped. "You can't. It's wrong. Taking a life is wrong."

"Why?"

Pressing his brain, Souta scrambled to think of a better reason. Shouldn't wrong be good enough? Then he smiled in triumph. "Because it's against the law."

"Law?"

"The government made it against the law."

He nodded. "The government. That was mentioned in those books that Kagome retrieved for me. Instead of lands divided by feudal lords, the islands of Japan are united under one government. They were ruled under an emperor at one point, but now a group of men are elected into office by the common people, though I find it odd that they would permit the peasants to decide over such important affairs. Human are such unfathomable creatures."

"Anyhow," Souta went on, "In order for our government to protect its people, it enforces laws. One of them makes murder illegal."

"Hm."

"If anyone violates the law, they get arrested by the police. Eventually, they get tried in court, and if they're guilty, they get punished."

"Are they then killed?"

"Only if they've done something really bad, like murder. Usually they just go to jail for a very long time."

"That seems to be a considerable amount of unnecessary effort. Why not stab them and be done with it?"

"What if they aren't guilty? What if the wrong person was caught?"

"An unlikely occurrence."

"It's happened before."

"The accidental death of one human is hardly a tragedy. Many innocent ones die from illnesses and injuries every year. They did nothing to deserve it."

"But you can't compare people getting hurt or sick to purposefully killing someone for a crime they didn't commit. People can't help dying from car accidents or heart attacks. It's just bad luck. Besides, the government and the police are supposed to protect the innocent, not make us live in fear. That's what the laws are for. What good is it to have rules, if the people in charge can break them whenever they want?"

A long silence passed as Sesshoumaru mulled over the boy's reasoning.

"Laws, you say?"

Souta nodded.

"Demanding order from this chaotic city, these laws appeal to me."

He let out a sigh of relief.

Letting out a whistling whine, the train began to brake. With a pin-pon, the intercom turned on, and a friendly woman announced their arrival at the upcoming station.

"That's our stop," Souta said as he turned around in his seat to look out the oversized window.

"Good," Sesshoumaru replied, and shrugged to adjust the stack of wood until it was comfortable.

Built with sterile gray concrete and trimmed in a sharp blue, the station platform appeared as their train glided up beside it. From business suits to school uniforms, a few dozen people stood out on the platform, each waiting behind the red line that ran parallel with the track.

Coming to a smooth stop, the train idled for a moment. Then there was a mechanical hiss, and the doors slid open. Normally impatient, the other passengers hung back, wary of the strange man and the boy near the exit. Taking the opportunity, Sesshoumaru and Souta stepped off the train first. Making their way across the platform, they wove through the milling people waiting to get on. They soon found the exit gate, and they took the short flight of stairs down to the sidewalk below. Wedged between a traffic-clogged street and a dizzying array of storefronts, they began the final leg of their journey home.

"What are we building today?" the boy asked. The novelty of the mystery had finally given way to his pressing curiosity.

Sesshoumaru snorted, noting the 'we' he used so loosely.

"The sliding door is new, and the stairs don't creak anymore. After ripping it out a while ago, we finished laying the new upstairs floor last week. All of the cabinets have new hinges, and are repainted. I know that Mama said it would be nice to have a new table in the family room, especially after we spilled glue all over the old one. Maybe we can just sand it and repaint it too." He laughed. "Wouldn't it be funny if she thought it was new?"

"A new table for the family room may be a fine addition at another time."

"Oh," Souta murmured, puzzled. "Then what's this wood for? It's a type used in furniture, isn't it? Aren't we making a table?"

"We are crafting a table, but not one for the house."

"I don't get it."

"I am not the sole pupil in this new way of the warrior, so why should I be the only one who has a table on which to work?"

The meaning behind his cryptic remark sank in, and Souta's eyes lit up. "We're making me a worktable?"

The daiyoukai nodded.

"All right!" he half-yelled, unable contain his excitement. "My own workbench!"

He smirked, amused and pleased by the boy's exuberance.

"So what did we buy exactly?" he said as he opened the plastic bag he carried. His interest, which had been somewhat mild at the hardware store, suddenly erupted, and now he wanted to examine everything. "Let me see if I can figure out what it's gonna look like. This is so awesome!"

The afternoon breeze picked up, and a flimsy slip of paper hardly worth noticing was swept up out of the bag.

"Crap! The receipt!" Souta yelled, watching it as it fluttered and flew out past between two parked cars. "Mama's gonna kill me!" His mind awhirl with new tables and his mother's measured wrath, he was hopelessly distracted from the danger as he dove out into the street after the insignificant piece of paper. Had it been any other day, he never would have done it.

As he stumbled out onto the hot asphalt, he realized his mistake, but by then it was too late. The cool shadow of the delivery truck was already upon him. There was no time to brake.

The whine of twisting metal tore the air. The sour stink of coolant sprayed, followed by the heady pungency of gasoline and oil. Some of it splattered on his face, and it burned.

Though his eyes were pinched shut, Souta felt something strong wrapped around him, protecting him from the scattering chunks of metal and the shards of glass that showered from the sky. A terrifying eternity passed for him in that fraction of a second that when the eerie silence finally came, he could hardly believe it.

Shouts began to pepper the quiet.

His vision blurry at first, the boy opened his eyes to pieces of truck strewn about the street. Warm and secure against him, he noticed the powerful arms of the daiyoukai around him. Swelling at cuts along the surface of his skin, red began to trickle and drip.

"Sesshoumaru! Sesshoumaru!"

"I'm here," he answered softly.

Hearing his deep voice, Souta shook as he was overwhelmed with hard sobs. "Are-are you… Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

The boy twisted around, and buried his face into the demon's chest as he hugged him tightly. He could feel beneath his torn shirt. His back was sticky with blood. "You're hurt, Sesshoumaru! I'm sorry. I don't know why I did it. I was so stupid. And now you're hurt, and it's all my fault. I'm so sorry."

"Do not concern yourself. The wounds are shallow and not even worth mentioning."

"B-but…"

The daiyoukai pulled Souta back so that he could look him in the eye. "Not worth mentioning. We must go now."

Sniffing and hiccupping, he stifled his sobs and bit his tongue, afraid that if he said anything more that he'd start crying again. Sesshoumaru was going to be all right. Inhaling deep through his nose, he nodded instead.

"Good." With bits of glass and debris spilling from him, Sesshoumaru stood up. They then took a few steps away, and looked back at the demon-shaped hole in the truck's engine.

On the sidewalk, a crowd of people stared in wordless disbelief. Then one began to clap. And then another. Soon a rush of applause surrounded them, accented with cheers and high-pitched whistles.

"What are they doing?" Sesshoumaru asked.

"You're a hero."

"A hero?"

He nodded, and rubbed his wet eyes with the back of his hand before looking up at the daiyoukai. "You're a hero."

A siren wailed in the distance. Trapped behind a wall of stopped motorists, flashing lights spun, but when Souta spotted them, he tugged on the tail of Sesshoumaru's shirt. "It's the police. We have to go."

"Are they not allies? Enforcers of your laws?"

"Now wouldn't be the best time for an introduction. Not too many people can stop trucks with their bodies, and only get a few scratches. They're gonna ask questions that are probably best left unanswered."

The youkai nodded. Even as he was perplexed over the need for secrecy, he accepted that it wasn't his culture. It wasn't wise to debate when he had very limited knowledge on the subject.

Together, they abandoned the lumber, the plastic bag and the wayward receipt. They slipped through the flocks of onlookers until no one recognized them anymore. Soon, Souta was leading them down side streets and alleys until they saw the familiar trees lining the shrine.

Still echoing in his ears as they climbed the steps, Sesshoumaru remembered the crowd's applause. 'You're a hero.'


	8. Rebirth

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi and other associated companies.

Chapter 08: Rebirth

"Earlier today in downtown Tokyo, a potential tragedy has turned into a miraculous feat of heroism," a young reporter announced; her manner polite and professional. "A man saved a boy from a delivery truck by using his body as a human shield. An act that would without a doubt, seriously injure or kill anyone who tried to do it." Taking a step back, she turned to the side and with a wave; she revealed a web of yellow police tape and just beyond it, the crushed front end of a large truck. "But as you can see, there's no body to speak of. Just a few drops of blood, a mangled hunk of metal, and a mystery."

The scene flashed to a thin businessman whose ill-fitting suit made him look bigger than he really was. "I was crossing the crosswalk when I saw the boy just jump out into the road. I thought he was dead for sure. I mean, there was no way the truck could stop in time or even swerve out of the way."

Another flash. Balancing a baby on her hip, a frazzled mother spoke next as she struggled to hold onto her other child who tugged relentlessly on her hand. "There was a silver flash, and the truck crumpled up like it had hit a wall. Some sort of man had grabbed the boy, and then stopped the truck by just getting in front of it. I've never seen anything like it."

Two high school students giddy with excitement. "It was crazy. The guy just stood up like it was nothing. And this is even crazier." They pulled out a pair of digital cameras. "We're in the photography club on campus, and we take our cameras everywhere, because you never know what you might see. We took a dozen pictures of the guy, and they're all the same." They turned the display screens to face the television cameras and held them close. Slightly out of focus from the distance, the boy's face was fairly clear, but the man was completely blurred. "Every single one is like that. It's impossible. It's like he's a ghost or something."

Sesshoumaru snorted indignantly. Sitting cross-legged, he regarded the moving picture box with mild disgust. "I am not a ghost."

Kagome squeezed out some ointment onto her finger from the metal tube in her hand. With a light touch, she then dabbed it over one of the deep cuts on his back. "They don't know any different. Youkai now might as well be ghosts."

He snorted again.

She tore open a packet of gauze and laid the bandage over the cut. "And by the way, I didn't realize that I would have to use my priestess skills again so soon."

"Your tending is unnecessary."

She reached for the roll of soft white tape and snipped a piece off with a pair of scissors.

"I will heal on my own."

"If that's the case," she remarked as she adhered the tape to the edge of the gauze, "Then hurry up and heal, so that I don't have to keep tending to you."

Silence.

"That's what I thought," she said with a kind smile as she cut off another piece of tape.

The television flashed back to the reporter. "There is one other unusual development. The driver of the truck is missing. It's believed that he fled the scene right after the accident, and for a good reason. Stolen televisions, stereos and other electronic equipment have been discovered in the hold of the truck, and it is believed that he might have been involved with the KuroSakura Gang. As of right now, the police are currently investigating all leads, and are optimistic that if anything, they will catch the perpetrator."

Souta scoffed. Sitting beside the living room table, he crossed his arms. "Not likely."

Sesshoumaru looked at him. "Stealing is against the law here, is it not?"

"Yes."

"The police are meant to uphold the laws. They will catch those responsible. Their sense of duty and honor will not permit them to do otherwise."

"It's not that simple," Kagome explained. "The police have been trying to get rid of the KuroSakura gang for years, but instead they just keep growing larger."

"And they're not afraid of the cops either," Souta said, "They think they're samurai. Some are even willing to die rather than betray their gang. And if that means getting in a shoot out, they'll do it." He shook his head. "It's messed up."

"If they believe that they are samurai," Sesshoumaru said, "Then they must have a master. A lord whose orders they will follow even to the death."

"If the police knew that, then there wouldn't be much of a gang anymore," Mama said as she walked in, a dish of pickled vegetables in one hand and a tray of sautéed fish in the other. "Souta, can you please fetch some bowls and the rice cooker."

Souta stood up and left for the kitchen.

"It's a closely guarded secret," she went on. "Even if it means a shorter prison sentence, members who are caught won't expose the identities of those in charge."

The warlords in present day Edo aren't as easy to identify as they were in the Feudal Era," Kagome added.

"The corrupt cops don't help either," Souta said bitterly as he returned.

"We don't know that," Mama said, taking the bowls and the rice cooker from him. "You can't make blind assertions about people, Souta."

"Well, if they're not corrupt, then they're cowards." Anger shook him, and he looked at Sesshoumaru. "They're not heroes." With his jaw clenched, he left and went to his room, his steps thudding up the stairs.

Mama sighed, and began to pile rice into the bowls with a spoon-like spatula. "Too much has happened today." She looked up and caught the daiyoukai's bewildered expression. "I don't know how I ended up with two of them, but he's idealistic just like his sister," she explained.

Kagome looked up quizzically at the reference, her hand sneaking out to grab the first bowl.

"He wants to believe that evil can be vanquished, and he idolizes his sister who was able to do just that."

Sesshoumaru nodded, remembering the battle as his hand unconsciously felt for the scar on his chest.

"But the world isn't that simple. Good and evil aren't cut in stone, but written in sand. And now he's reached the age where he has to face that fact."

"The leaders of the KuroSakura Gang are lucky though," Kagome said as she piled a chopstick's worth of vegetables onto her rice. "They can hide their faces. The police can't. If it only meant placing themselves in danger, then maybe a few cops put their lives on the line. However, the KuroSakura Gang goes after their friends and family instead. They stalk them or beat them up. Sometimes they even set their homes on fire. Horrible stuff."

Mama picked up the remote. "I think that's enough." She flipped through the stations until she found a silly sitcom. Listening deafly to the stiff jokes and canned laughter, they finished their meal in silence.

OOOOOOOOOO

Sliding the door open, Sesshoumaru stepped out into the shrine's courtyard. He took in the pleasant night air as he rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, trying to rid it of the sour taste. At Ms. Higurashi's insistence, he had tried the pickled vegetables. He felt no regret. Every experience is an opportunity to learn something, and he learned that they were revolting. Too often human food presented itself as a chance for him to challenge and strengthen his fortitude. Although, the fish had been quite good.

His mind steeping with the day's events, the pebbly ground crunched under his sandals as he walked toward the shed tucked away in the far reaches of the shrine. He entered it and pulled the cord to the lone light bulb hanging inside. Under the incandescent glow, he surveyed the workshop. Clean and polished, his tools hung on the walls or sat neatly in their drawers, and the floor didn't have one feathery bit of sawdust on it.

At the center of his worktable, a block of wood lay. Cream-colored with a smooth grain, it was leftover from another project. Sesshoumaru stared at it. The future was strange, but the more he learned, the more he understood it. The more he felt it. There were still lords, and there were still samurai. Their names and laws may have changed with the world, but the conflicts never did. The honorable are fangless dragons, and their enemies laugh at them, taunting them to bite as they file their claws down as well.

Sesshoumaru stared at the block of wood. And even without eyes, it soon began to stare back. Compelled by it, he picked up his ruler and his flat pencil. And he began to draw.

OOOOOOOOOO

Towering conspicuously over the humans squeezed in around him, Sesshoumaru waited in the crammed elevator. Pressed into the corner, the metal handrail dug into his back and hip. He ignored the discomfort, preferring it over being at the center and completely surrounded by people. Their strong, starchy scents curdled in his nose, the fabricated odors of their industry. It clung to his clothes and skin where they brushed up against him. But the more he endured, the less he noticed as his senses slowly acclimated to their constant presence.

The elevator slowed and then hiccupped to a stop. With a cheery ding, the doors opened. A few people began to pile out, and he squeezed through the rest as he escaped from the claustrophobic cube. Next time, he would take the stairs.

As written on the sign hanging from the ceiling, the men's department spanned out around him. On hidden speakers, a benign, classical tune played as he walked down one of the gridded walkways. On either side of him, closely spaced racks of clothes stood amid fields of indoor/outdoor carpet. And at every corner, blank-faced statues posed, confidently dressed in the clothes hanging behind them.

At a loss, the daiyoukai wandered between the racks, prodding at a few as he passed. Every so often, he glanced up to watch the shoppers around him. While they perused, he tried to deduce what was best to buy. The men were always quick, snatching up what they wanted and promptly paying for it, while the fickle women sauntered between the racks, comparing colors and styles with a critical eye. Neither proved to be much help.

"Can I help you, sir," a bubbly voice asked behind him.

Turning around, Sesshoumaru stared in silence at the smartly dressed man in black slacks and a button up, pastel shirt.

"I'll take that as a yes," the associate said when an answer didn't seem to be forthcoming. "Do you know what size you are?"

"I do not know what number I am," Sesshoumaru replied. "I have not bought clothing before."

"Ah," he replied at the revelation, "I must say, it shows more than the aimless wandering." He pointed to his pants. "Those awful pants are a huge clue. They're all baggy in the butt, and they barely reach your ankles. I mean, the whole look screams old, stuffy schoolteacher from the eighties."

Sesshoumaru looked down at his clothes, mystified by his descriptions.

"Who dresses you?" the associate asked.

"A woman?"

The man shook his head in disappointment and clucked. "Don't worry. I'm here now, and I'll save you from anymore fashion disasters." He reached up and squeezed the daiyoukai's shoulder for reassurance. "Oh my, "he gasped. "Do you work out?"

"Work out?"

"Never mind," he said, his hand drifting down to Sesshoumaru's forearm as he gave it a gentle tug. "Let's get you to the dressing room and I'll take your… measurements."

The associate guided Sesshoumaru toward the far wall. Near the back, were a series of discount racks and the demon abruptly stopped.

"Did something catch your eye, sir," the associate asked in bewilderment.

Looking over at a rack of coats leftover from the winter season, Sesshoumaru began to tow him toward it.

"Winter is still a ways off," he insisted. "We need to worry about what you're wearing now."

Ignoring him, the daiyoukai pulled out the trench coat that had caught his eye. Blazingly white under the burning glow of the fluorescent lights, it was made from a thick, khaki material. A stylized design of red flowers wove along the cuffs and up from the hem at the bottom.

"You have flashy tastes," the associate said approvingly. "I like it."

Sesshoumaru nodded and held the coat up.

"Why don't you try it on?"

Sesshoumaru put his arms through one sleeve at a time and shrugged it on.

The associate took a few steps back, his finger at his lips as he looked him over. Then he grinned. "It's perfect. As if it was made just for you." Pointing toward one of the pillars, he said, "There's a mirror over there. Go see for yourself."

Sesshoumaru's eyes widened when he found it. In the reflection, he saw a glimpse of the old warrior he used to be. His confidence surged in his chest, emboldening him. He thought about the finished piece of wood back at his workshop. There wasn't any doubt anymore. He knew for certain that this is what he wanted.

"Do you have anything sleeveless that I can look at?" he asked the associate without looking.

The associate nodded eagerly and sang, "Right this way!"


	9. A Learning Experience

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi and other associated companies.

Chapter 09: A Learning Experience

It was a warm night in downtown Tokyo. Sulfur streetlamps burned, casting orange spotlights on the parked cars below. Crumpled plastic bags and wrappers littered the cracked sidewalk or drowned in the sopping gutter. Sesshoumaru stepped over them silently as he walked along the sidewalk, keeping to the shadows. On his left, he passed countless buildings. Made of brick or smooth concrete, they blended into each other one after the other. Greasy restaurants, adult stores and pawn shops. Behind their storefront windows and doors, an intimidating lattice of bars stretched. And in the corners, there was the stark glow of neon twisted into garish characters. Closed.

Hearing a rattling jingle approach, Sesshoumaru quickly stepped into the gap between two buildings. Panting as he ran, a man pushed a ramen cart past him. In his blind hustle to get home, he didn't notice the daiyoukai a few steps from him. After all, night was settling in. And those who weren't meant to be in it were best tucked away behind a deadbolt or two.

Sesshoumaru stepped back out onto the sidewalk. Taking a deep breath, he absorbed the smells of the city. The earthiness of the concrete and the sourness of the sewer; they permeated the air with the gritty smog. He let out his breath. This place, he realized, had something he hadn't quite expected. A pulse, and it flowed through it like the trains over their tracks.

A brick wall turned into a chain-link fence, and his attention snapped back from his lofty thoughts to his more immediate surroundings. At three times his height, the fence towered over him with coils of razor-wire looping over the top. Bolted to it was a beat up sign. It read Police Impound Lot.

Sesshoumaru peered through the fence. Parked in orderly spaces were rows of cars. Most of them were simply dusty, waiting for their owners to pay their past-due tickets. Further back were the mangled messes, automobiles involved in severe accidents that still warranted investigation.

The daiyoukai smirked. Its tall hold rising higher than the smaller cars around it, he spotted the delivery truck. He took a few steps back and leapt up. Not the acrobat he once was, he didn't clear the top, but grabbed on just beneath the razor-wire. He reached up for the wire and felt a biting sting. Surprised by it, he let go and dropped back down to the ground.

Putting his finger in his mouth, Sesshoumaru sucked away the metal taste of blood. The gash wasn't deep. In fact, it had already clotted. He felt a measure of gratitude for his youkai toughness as he imagined that more learning experiences were no doubt on their way.

His eyes followed the razor-wire as it curled at the top of every stretch of fencing, thwarting any further attempts. To leap over it, he needed to get higher. His sight gravitated toward the brick building neighboring the lot. He walked over to it. There was a narrow alley that ran between them. He checked the distance. It was about three paces wide. It was easily enough.

With his back against the building, Sesshoumaru faced the fence. Gathering his strength, he jumped up, but instead of grabbing the fence when he landed against it, he pivoted away to make another leap. The chain links rattled as he pushed off and landed against the building's wall. Now at twice the height, his boot gripped the wall for a fraction of a moment as he twisted back toward the lot and made his final leap. Sailing over the razor-wire, he landed on the asphalt drive inside with a loud thud.

Sesshoumaru rose up, his ears sharp as he listened for any security whose suspicion he might have aroused. But all he heard were air conditioning units rumbling in the distance. No one came.

He walked over to the truck. It still smelled strong of spilled fuel and radiator fluid. Going around the cab, he found the driver's side door and lifted the handle. It was unlocked, and with a soft whine, it opened. Most of the interior was stripped and everything else was coated in a thin residue of fingerprint powder. The police had taken most of the evidence, but not everything.

Sesshoumaru sniffed the air keenly. A multitude of scents filled his nostrils, muddling together into an almost indiscernible mess. As he recalled, the television had stated recently that the truck was stolen, so he disregarded the older scents. But relying on the fresher scents proved to be just as confusing. The police had been in and out of the vehicle for days, leaving behind their odors as they conducted their investigation.

Then one scent began to stand out from the rest. Thick and salty, it clung to the seat. It was sweat. The police wouldn't have sweated in the truck. This scent could be the one he was looking for. The one that belonged to his prey.

Sesshoumaru inhaled again, exploring the smell. There was a mix of soaps and dirt, smoke from his cigarettes, the noodle broth he had spilt on himself earlier in the day, and automobile grease. They melded together to create a distinctive profile of the man, and one that he could track.

Finished, Sesshoumaru shut the door quietly. He stealthily made his way back toward the fence, and with a running jump, he leapt on top of a car before he bounded over the fence.

Staying hidden like before, the daiyoukai walked down the sidewalk. The man's scent cycled through his mind as he teased each element apart. The dust from his clothes had notes of a unique soot and fuel. Since he began living in the city, he hadn't smelled it too often except when he and Souta made their occasional visits to the lumberyard.

His stride quickening, Sesshoumaru turned down a new street and made his way toward the harbor and the industrial side of the city. After a few shortcuts through alleys and across empty lots, he found himself on the familiar frontage road near the lumberyard. Running parallel beside it were the iron rails of a railroad track.

Sesshoumaru sniffed the air and picked up a faint trace of diesel ash. He nodded. The earth smelled right.

He walked down the sidewalk, following the road away from the harbor. There wasn't any sea salt in the man's scent. On his right, were a series of dilapidated buildings. Mostly they were hardware stores, restaurants and repair shops with squiggles of graffiti staining their paint-chipped walls. One place stood out. It had blue, square-shaped cuts of cloth hanging from its eave. With one character written on each piece, the sign spelled out Noodle Shop.

He noticed a savory mix of aromas lingering in the air, still strong even though the restaurant had closed a few hours ago. There was miso, soy and chicken broth along with a blend of other seasonings. The proportions were uncannily similar to what was in the truck. Sesshoumaru walked up to the dark storefront and sniffed again. The scents of dozens of humans overwhelmed him as he looked for the specific profile of the man: soap, cigarettes, broth and grease.

Then his eyes widened. He found the man he was looking for, but by the scent he had forgotten. The one scent that left him without any doubt. The man carried with him still the faint odor of the truck.

Sesshoumaru stepped away from the restaurant and followed the scent. Only a couple hours old, it was fresh. The man must have eaten there for dinner. He tracked it down the sidewalk until it pooled around a concrete building with big, steel roll-up doors. An auto repair garage, it was protected by a chain link fence. Considerably less intimidating than the one at the impound lot, Sesshoumaru leapt over it easily.

There was a rustle followed by the pattering of racing paws. With burly shoulders and bared teeth, a dog came around the corner to meet the intruder. It growled viciously when it spotted Sesshoumaru, its hair standing up like ridge on its back.

The daiyoukai's eyes narrowed and he returned its growl with one of his own. Whining under its ferocity, the dog bent its head and lay down.

Sesshoumaru snorted; satisfied that at least his rank among dogs hadn't changed over the years. He walked pass the submissive beast and toward the rear of the building. The thick, sweet smell of cigarettes inundated the air. Then his pace slowed when he heard men chuckling.

As he peeked around the corner, he found them. The orange ember of a cigarette at their lips, they stood atop a short flight of steps, their bodies leaning against the railing. Backlit by cool fluorescent light, they smoked in front of a door propped open by a concrete block.

Sesshoumaru watched them for sometime as he formulated his plan when one man ground the tip of his used up cigarette into the railing and tossed it into rusted can. With a casual wave to his friend, he walked back into the building.

Alone now, the other man took out his cigarette carton and shook it lightly until another cigarette fell out onto his palm. He put it to his lips as he shoved the carton back into his pocket and fumbled around for his lighter, oblivious to the danger that closed in from the darkness. Flipping the cap up on his lighter, he went to light his cigarette when a shadow fell over him.

"Sousuke, you back already?" he asked, but his smile vanished when he noticed that the shadow had two points on top of its head. He turned around and his cigarette dropped. "What the hell?"

A sound hit to his stomach put an end to the man's questions. And as he crumpled, a hand flew over his mouth to smother his groan. Sesshoumaru dragged him down the steps backwards until they were out in the darkness. Then the demon hoisted the man up and dropped him onto the hard asphalt, knocking him out for good.

The daiyoukai slipped back toward the garage and sniffed the air. There were four active scents, one belonging to the unconscious man. That left him with three more enemies. Stealthily, he made his way up the stairs and with sharp ears, he entered the doorway.

Inside there was a short hallway that led toward a wide open garage. Ahead, he could see a small car raised up on a floor jack. A pair of smeared-black pant legs stuck out from beneath it. A hand reach out from underneath the car, tossing out a part. The part slid across the floor until it landed with the others in a pile at the man's feet.

Reaching the end of the hallway, Sesshoumaru looked around the corner. There was another car beside the first. It was not much more than a skeletal frame and a man wearing a metal hood walked around it carrying a blowtorch. As he set to butchering it, a pale blue light flickered off the walls of the garage in rhythm with the popping sizzle of the sharpened flame.

Beneath the crackling, Sesshoumaru could hear the thunderous drumming of his own heartbeat. It surprised him to hear it. Fear and excitement swelled in him, and he couldn't be more pleased.

Working on a new piece, the man with the torch turned away, and Sesshoumaru stepped out. He walked over to the first man and grabbed his leg. Lying on a mechanic's creeper, the man rolled out with an easy tug.

"Hey!" the man yelled until he looked up to see who had gotten him. The strike was fast as Sesshoumaru planted his fist in the man's face.

Hearing the yell over his cutting, the other man turned around. Seeing Sesshoumaru, he turned up his torch and came after him. Sesshoumaru glanced around and spotted a crowbar leaning against a crate. He picked it up. The man lunged, and the daiyoukai twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the scorching flame. He swung the crowbar up, hooking the man under the jaw. And then he yanked it back, slamming the man down onto the ground. Groaning in pain, the man writhed on the floor, and Sesshoumaru whacked him in the gut with the crowbar to silence him.

Hearing the squeaking of scrambling boots over the polished floor, Sesshoumaru looked up. As it bolted toward the hallway, the daiyoukai spotted his prey. Without thinking, he dropped his crowbar and reached for the butchered car. Lighter than expected, he picked it up and with a grunt, threw it. The car flew past the man's head and collided with the hallway with a loud, crumpling bang.

The whimpering man fell back onto the floor, overwhelmed with fear and shock.

Sesshoumaru stooped over and picked up the crowbar. With a relaxed self-assuredness, he approached the man.

"What…" the man stuttered as he slid away until his back hit the wall, "What are you?"

"Those who are about to die needn't know what I am," Sesshoumaru replied.

"Die? Wait! Wait! I'll do whatever you want! Give you whatever you want! Just don't kill me!"

"I am still adjusting to this time, and this idea of not killing criminals is a difficult concept to grasp."

The man whimpered.

Sesshoumaru struck him with the crowbar, putting an end to his misery.

OOOOOOOOOO

The night faded as the gray dawn streaked the morning sky. His head throbbing and his face sticky, the man slowly began to wake up. His eyelids cracked, exposing him to a blurry world. He tried to rub his eyes, but his sore arms felt like dead weights twisted behind his back. So instead, he blinked until everything came into focus.

In a daze, he stared at the side of a wrecked car in front of him and then at the long row of them to his right. He must be in a parking lot, but not one that he could easily recognize.

His stupor lifted. Again, he tried to move his arms, and when he did, he heard the rattle of a chain. Looking around as well as he could, he realized he was sitting back against the rim of a truck wheel and the chain he heard was binding his wrists around it.

Hearing the noise, a white figure stepped out from around the truck, and the man nearly screamed. It walked over and knelt down in front of him.

"Be thankful, human, for I have decided to grant you a choice," the daiyoukai said.

The man stared into the mask and at the terrifying, gold eyes behind it.

"The first is that you and your colleagues will confess to the police. You will tell them of all your illegal activities, including those involving this vehicle. The second choice happens if you refuse to."

"What happens to us if we refuse to?"

"I will return." Sesshoumaru punched the truck's hold above the man's head, denting it deep. "Understand, human?"

The man nodded fervently.

Muffled by the thick steel, the newly imprisoned men inside the truck's hold began to shout.

"Your allies are inside. The police will apprehend you shortly. Remember your choices."

Then with a sweep of his trench coat, Sesshoumaru left, his crowbar still in hand.


	10. The Alleyway

Chapter 10: The Alleyway

It was another wintry night when Kagome stepped out of her house and began her walk across the shrine grounds. From the breaking clouds above, the cool moonlight shone down around her, casting everything in a shadowy blue hue. In her gloved hand, she carried a flashlight and let its white beam guide her way. Having lived there her entire life, she knew the shrine better than anyone, and that she could find her way even if it were pitch black out. But when her mother handed her the flashlight, Kagome couldn't say no. That woman had a way of getting her way, especially with that disarming smile.

Puffs of vapor steamed out of her mouth as she breathed, and she pulled her heavy coat closer. It was a colder night than usual, and she tucked her free hand into her armpit to keep it warm. Relieved, she soon spotted her destination ahead, the old carpentry shed in the corner of the grounds. It looked better than it had in years. Sesshoumaru and Souta had trimmed back the bushes and trees that had swallowed it up and put a new roof on it to keep the rain out. It was amazing that Grandpa's prized tools had survived so well in such a dilapidated little shack.

Through its singular window, she saw the golden glow of a light bulb. She smiled, almost giddy with relief. After weeks of being gone every night, Sesshoumaru was here. Her pace quickened, and she walked up to the shed, lifted the latch and opened the door. Her smile vanished. All that she found inside were clean tables and workbenches. With the floor swept and his tools put away, he hadn't just stepped out. He was gone, and had just forgotten to turn off the light when he left. Kagome reached up and pulled the cord, and with a click, she turned it off.

The walk back to the house was a long one, but her mind was such a tangle of worry and confusion that she didn't even feel the cold. Where had he been going? She had tried to ask him about it once last week, but that cool, indifferent look of his was a hard one to overcome. It had an annoying way of making her feel guilty just for asking. She sighed. It was times like these that she missed Inuyasha. He was so easy to read, even when he was at his most stubborn.

Kagome walked up the steps and opened the front door of her house. Once inside, she quickly shut it behind her, keeping the cold air outside where it belonged.

"Was he out there?" Mama called out from the kitchen.

"No," Kagome replied, her disappointment weighing her voice. She untied her boots and set them by her loafers at the entrance of the hallway.

"I'm sure that he's fine wherever he's at."

"I know." She walked down the hallway and through the living room until she found her mother in the kitchen, putting together lunch for the next day. She leaned against the counter and frowned.

Mama looked up at her pouting face and smiled. "He's a grown man, Kagome."

"But he's not from this time. Back in the Feudal Era, he was what made it dangerous to go out at night, but that's not the case anymore. He's not like he used to be. Something could happen to him now."

"I hear you," she said, setting the rice paddle down. She walked over to her daughter and wrapped her arm gently around her shoulders. "But he doesn't want to be protected. He's not the type who cowers, afraid that he might get hurt. If he was, Souta wouldn't be here with us now."

That dreadful thought struck a deep chord, almost bringing the schoolgirl to tears. She let her head fall against her mother's chest as she looked for solace. "I'm just worried. That's all."

"It's understandable, and I'm sure he's not doing anything remotely dangerous right now."

OOOOOOOOOO

Crouching in the shadows at the edge of a rooftop, Sesshoumaru waited. Below him, cloudy fluorescent lights flickered along an alleyway, illuminating the scattered trash and graffiti. The alleyway fed into a clearing, an old delivery dock of a vacant warehouse, but now it had a new purpose. It was the meeting place for a den of thieves.

Beginning with the filth at the garage, the daiyoukai managed to systematically hunt down their members and move his way up their hierarchy. And after weeks of violence and interrogations, he was here. In a few moments, their leaders would convene in this hidden place, and he would put an end to their crimes.

The sound of a motorcycle hummed in his ear. He looked back, and at the mouth of the alleyway, he spotted it. Bright red in color, it waited there, its jittery motor growling. Then with a whine, it whizzed away into the night.

Before Sesshoumaru could consider it, half a dozen shuffling steps pulled his attention back to the dock. With their hands shoved into the pockets of their thick coats, they walked in from different directions, sauntering as if on an aimless evening stroll. As they met, they gave quick bows and lit cigarettes. They spoke jovially to each other, but the demon could hear the fear underpinning their conversations, and it wasn't long before they started talking about the rash of attacks.

"There aren't many of us left, are there?" one said, pulling his coat collar closer.

"It grabbed Hiro last night," another replied somberly, "The bastard woulda got me too."

"And why didn't it?" a third accused, "I heard you were a coward, Hachirou. That you hid when it came around. That you pissed yourself and let it take him"

"You weren't there, Isamu! You don't know what it was like!"

"He was your brother!"

"Don't you think I know that? I wanted to save him, but…" he trailed off.

"That thing isn't human," the first one finished for him.

Isamu scoffed. "What do you mean it isn't human? What else could it be, Rokurou?"

"It's a ghost. An evil spirit exacting revenge."

The others murmured in agreement.

"What are you guys?" he said, astonished by what he was hearing. "Am I surrounded by a bunch of old, superstitious hags?"

"You haven't seen it, Isamu," Hachirou said. His voice trembled with fear and shame. "Hiro was in the back of the warehouse. It ripped four steel doors off their hinges, deadbolts and all. Hiro managed to get out to the parking lot, but that thing was there waiting for him. He got to his car, but it picked it up with him in it and threw it into the bay. If the cops hadn't shown up when they did who knows if I'd still have a brother right now!"

Isamu growled.

"If it is an evil spirit," another man added. With a cigarette hanging from his lip, he walked toward them, the embodiment of cool collectedness. "Then we're doomed."

"Kenta-tai-chou," Hachirou said, and the group bowed, attributing an appropriate amount of respect to the newcomer.

"But if it bleeds." He pulled his hand out of his pocket just far enough for them to see the glint of gunmetal. "We'll make sure it becomes an evil spirit. They want this taken care of."

In the presence of their confident leader, the men recaptured their slipping courage. But their easy breathing and chuckles of relief were short-lived.

There was a clatter of cans and bottles down the alleyway.

"What was that?" Hachirou whispered.

Kenta held up his hand, silencing him, and pulled the hammer back on his revolver with his thumb.

Despite the freezing midnight temperatures, the air suddenly felt heavy, stifling.

At the opposite end of the dock, there was the clang of spilled trash cans.

Sweat chilled the back of their necks. Dread pounded in their chests.

Overhead, they heard the scratching ring of metal being dragged over concrete.

"It's here," Hachirou muttered, gulping down on the lump in his throat. They glanced at him warily, their expressions rife with pity and contempt. He whimpered. None of them had ever seen it, but he had, and when he spotted the glowing gold eyes high on the roof above them, his terror was realized. Hachirou bolted for the nearest alley.

"Hachirou!" Isamu shouted, seething with anger. Pulling out his switchblade, he planned to take care of this coward now. But when he started after his fleeing silhouette, another shadow fluttered down. There was a heavy thump and Hachirou let out a wet groan. Then Hachirou was gone.

Gripping his knife until his knuckles turned white, Isamu scanned the alley. Under the scant lamplight, strewn pieces of newspaper rustled in the breeze. Something wet dripped onto his forehead. He reached up and touched it with his fingers. It was dark, and he smeared it around before putting it up to his nose. It had a metallic scent, one he knew well. Blood. He swallowed and looked up. Golden eyes met him, and a hand reached out of the shadows, grabbed his face and yanked him into the darkness.

The men could hear Isamu struggling, but then there was a sickening smack. His knife clattered onto the ground, and silence followed. The men formed a ring, putting their backs to each other. Each drew a knife, holding it close to their bodies to keep their hands from trembling.

"What do you want?" Kenta shouted at the rooftops.

Silence.

"Answer me, monster!"

A silver apparition leapt down from the sky, landing at the center of the ring.

"Monster? Close, but not quite," Sesshoumaru whispered. He grabbed him by his coat and flung him across the dock and into the brick side of a building. With an arcing swing he swept the crowbar around, striking each man across the back. They all stumbled forward, gasping for the air that had been knocked from them. Using the hook to snatch him by the neck, the daiyoukai yanked one of them back and punched him soundly in the side. The man sputtered and collapsed, lost to the dizzying pain.

Sesshoumaru swung the crowbar again, hitting the next one in the gut, and he finished the third one cracking him across the face with his fist. Easy prey, but as he raised his hand to finish off the last man, there was a loud pop.

Following its origin, the demon looked back at their leader. Crumpled against the base of the wall, Kenta panted, blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth. In his weaving hand, there was an odd, black object. Sesshoumaru stared at it, mystified. It was like nothing he had ever seen.

There was another pop.

He felt strange. His body was suddenly heavy, and he collapsed onto his knees. Something wasn't right, and when he looked down at his chest, he spotted the cause. Rounder than what an arrow made, there was a hole piercing through him. He growled. He wanted to move. He needed to move. Mustering his strength, he climbed back to his feet.

Another pop.

He felt it strike his gut, and he fell back down onto his stomach, his mind a murky haze of pain.

"Kenta-tai-chou!" Rokurou called out. He was the only one left, and he limped over to his injured leader.

"Is it dead?" Kenta asked, wincing as he was pulled up onto his feet.

"I don't know. Let's just go."

"No," he replied coldly. Using Rokurou as support, Kenta nodded toward the fallen demon. "We're ending this. No one screws with the KuroSakura Gang."

Together, they hobbled over. Through the white trench coat, Kenta could see it breathing and he smirked. "So you are alive." He cocked the gun again and took aim at its head. "But not for long."

A loud, revving whir sped down the alleyway, and the dock filled with the blinding flash of a headlight. The red motorcycle buzzed around the corner, barreling for the two men. They stumbled back as the bike spun between them and the daiyoukai. Pushing the kickstand down with his boot, the rider stood up. Dressed in a red and black leather suit, he wore a red helmet with a black tinted visor, and at its crest were the bristles of a red mohawk. He pulled a baton off its clasp on his bike, and with a twist, it extended into a full-length staff.

"So you want to get in on this too, boy?" Kenta said, and he pointed the gun at the rider.

The swing came fast, and before he could pull the trigger, the revolver flew out of his hand and across the ground. The next blow struck his chest, and with a stabbing hit, he hit Rokurou hard in the stomach. They both fell, the last thread binding them to consciousness snapped.

With another twist, the staff collapsed back down. The rider turned back and walked over to the demon. He knelt down beside him and shook his head at the severe wounds. There was nothing he could do. "I'm sorry, dude."

A hand snaked out and grabbed his wrist.

"Take me home." The demon rasped as he struggled get up onto his hands and knees.

"#%$ me!" the rider half-yelled and tried to pull away.

Somewhere close, sirens started to wail.

"Take me home."

"Look, dude, you need to go to a hospital. The cops'll take care of you, so, uh, don't bleed out until then, all right?"

"I need to go home."

The rider looked down at him, conflicted. Then he sighed, "#%$ me." He reached under the demon arm. "Can you stand up?"

With the help of the rider, Sesshoumaru summoned what strength he had left and pulled himself up.

"You're a heavy bastard, aren't you?" the rider grunted as he guided him over to the bike. "Here, lift your leg over the seat, and don't move unless I tell you or else you're gonna make me drop my bike. Home won't matter if your brains are splattered all over the street, got it?"

The daiyoukai snorted.

"Yeah, this is a great idea," he muttered and got on the bike with the demon. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked at the youkai who was now leaning against his back and sighed again. "I hope you live, cuz this ain't worth it otherwise."

And with a highly-tuned whine, they took off down the alleyway.


End file.
